


Recipe for a Terrorist

by CassadyFlies



Category: No. 6 - All Media Types, No. 6 - Asano Atsuko
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M, Mass shooting, Psychology, Psychopathology & Sociopathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-18
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2019-01-19 07:33:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12405906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CassadyFlies/pseuds/CassadyFlies
Summary: This story takes an in-depth look at the psychology of school shooters, their twisted codependence with each other, and their reasonings behind their horrific act. This story aims to be honest, blunt, and unapologetic. I want to show a realistic picture of these kinds of situations, so if you are bothered by that kind of thing, do not read this story.I repeat: if you are bothered by violence, psychopathic behaviors, or weaponry, this is not the story for you.HOWEVER, if you enjoy dark tales of psychosexual entanglements, you will probably enjoy this.MY WARNINGS HAVE BEEN GIVEN





	1. Environment

The back of the classroom is where the smart kids sit. Anyone stupid enough to pay attention in school grouped together in the front where they could proudly display their skills of memorization- a technique only developed in those who were dumb enough to need it. If you were smart enough, school was a boring waste of time. Just a place to wait until you were shoved into the meatgrinder when you were eighteen. Or rather, twenty two. College is barely better than high school, and worse, it’s full of idealistic, self-obsessed people who think their feelings are important enough to be worried about by others.

Feelings. Nezumi was proud of his control over them. It meant his mind was clear enough to notice patterns others didn’t. It meant he was logical enough to see the big picture.

Big picture, people were idiots. He saw his classmates doing well in school due to their limited scope of understanding. He saw his classmates failing classes due to their sheer boredom by the stupid teachers who refused to answer their questions anymore.

He used to ask questions. He used to think teachers knew a damn thing about the subjects they taught. Then, he woke up. If they knew a damn thing, they wouldn’t be teachers. They’d be scientists and researchers and writers. They wouldn’t be wasting their time or cognitive abilities in a high school classroom on the poor side of town. He used to ask questions, but then he was told to shut up. Smart-ass. Contrarian. Just trying to start arguments. Quit asking questions, we’re trying to teach. Teach to the test, more like. Never any deep knowledge, the eyes of his classmates were flat.

He hid better books inside his textbooks. What class was he in? He looked up briefly from his extracurricular reading. Physics. Right. If you could even call it that, the entire semester was barely more than an explanation of the definition of physics. And some mindless memorization of algorithms. If you were smart enough, you could deduce the algorithms on your own without having to memorize the names of the variables. But that’s why he tested poorly. He always got the right answers, but in the ‘wrong’ way. They called him a cheater and sent him to detention. He had detention again after school, so… he checked the clock on the wall. Ten more minutes. Then, shuffling off to the frigid classroom devoid of books or anything to do. It was torture. You couldn’t study, you couldn’t read, you couldn’t sleep. You were allowed to do homework, but only the stuff you were assigned. It was insultingly easy.

“And the smallest subatomic particle is… anyone?” The teacher scanned the room. Everyone in the front row had their hands raised. Typical. “How about you?” She nodded at Nezumi, smiling fakely.

“How do you mean smallest?” Nezumi asked boredly. “By mass? By volume? Because there are bosons more massive than protons, and gravitons are suspected to have zero mass, so-”

“Okay, if you don’t know just say so.” The teacher cast him a withering look. “The answer is electron.” She wrote the word on the whiteboard.

“I  _ do  _ know,” Nezumi countered, unable to help himself.  _ “You  _ don’t know. Electrons have non-zero mass. And they’re the same size as positrons, obviously. So that’s an incomplete answer in itself.”

“Well, the book says I’m right,” the teacher responded, a bit smugly.

“The book is over simplistic and outdated.” Nezumi narrowed his eyes, trying not to let his frustration get the better of him. “Just like you.”

“Detention. Stay after school today.”

“Yep.” Nezumi folded his arms, leaning back in his seat. He had detention practically every day, but he wasn’t about to tell her that and wind up with in-school-suspension.

The bell couldn’t come fast enough. The second the jarring rattle of metal screeched through the air, he swung his backpack over his shoulder and stormed out of the classroom.

The school was a maze of hallways sprawling out over a campus larger than the block he lived on. He dodged backpacks, trying to avoid the gaze of anyone who might try to talk to him. He could have made the walk to detention with his eyes closed.

He stopped short just outside the door, an unusual sight catching his attention. The albino kid was sitting on the bench outside the door, crying.

“What the hell?” he muttered under his breath. The kid was gonna get beat up bad if he didn’t stop. Briefly, Nezumi debated saying something, but thought better of it.  _ Don’t get involved, not your problem. _

He claimed a desk in the back of the room and settled in for the hour long wait.

Slowly, the other disobedient students filed in, filling up the seats from back to front. Just as the door was about to be locked, the albino kid walked in, head down. He took the seat next to Nezumi and hunched over the desk, hiding his face in his hands.

The detention supervisor sat down at the front and put on headphones.

Nezumi tried to ignore the odd kid next to him. He really did. But the pathetic sniffling was beginning to get on his nerves. “Hey,” he whispered, leaning over. “You’re going to get your ass kicked if you do that.”

The albino kid wiped his eyes and blinked at Nezumi. “I’ve never had detention before.”

Nezumi looked away uncomfortably. “Okay. Well, just warning you.”

“What did you do?” he asked, apparently not reading Nezumi’s body language.

“I… I dunno. Lots of stuff. I don’t remember.” Nezumi shrugged.

“I was just late for class.” He rounded his shoulders, staring angrily down at his desk. “One too many times. I can’t help it, the bus doesn’t come to my neighborhood so my mom has to drive me, and she’s not always sober in the morning, so it takes a long time to wake her up.”

Nezumi tried not to laugh. He really did try. “Geez- man, you just dump out your purse like that to everyone or am I special?”

A flush came over the kid’s pale cheeks and he looked away, embarrassed. “I- I just… it’s so frustrating.”

“That’s school for ya.” Nezumi inspected the kid’s expression, trying to figure him out. “I’m here almost every day.”

“Really?” The albino kid looked up, eyes wide. He lowered his voice. “Are you a drug dealer?”

Nezumi had to break eye contact. It was just too funny. He held his breath, struggling not to laugh. Wouldn’t be good to get into even more trouble. “Wow, you’re great,” he gasped, looking back up. “Who are you?”

“Who am I?” He looked confused.

“Your name,” Nezumi prompted.

“Shion.” He glanced up at the teacher nervously. “Are- are we allowed to talk?”

“Not really, but who cares?” Nezumi looked at the teacher, too. Today it was the fat history teacher, so there shouldn’t be a problem. “I’m Nezumi.”

Shion stuck out his hand.

Nezumi blinked, taking a moment to recognize the gesture. “Oh.” He reached out awkwardly to shake Shion’s hand. “Yeah. Nice to meet you, I guess.”

“Why are you in detention so much?” Shion asked, leaning in like he was about to hear a really great secret.

“I’m smarter than everybody.” Nezumi scowled. “So the teachers hate me.”

“That’s right, you’re in my English class, aren’t you?” Shion nodded. “You stood up in the middle of class the other day and- what did you say exactly?”

Nezumi tried to recall. “I dunno, I say a lot of stuff.”

Shion frowned, trying to remember. “It was something like, ‘Shakespeare is just dick jokes and gay overtones?’”

“Oh yeah.” Nezumi nodded, remembering. “I hate it when teachers act like he was some elite writer for intellectuals. Teachers act a lot of bull. You know, most of them are just quoting out the textbook, they don’t actually understand a word they’re saying. Our English teacher doesn’t even know the difference between an alphabet and a syllabary.”

“College will be better,” Shion said softly, clenching his fists. “It has to be.”

“Just another holding cell.” Nezumi shook his head. “Another place to sit and wait for four years before they give you your walking papers and stick you in an office building until you’re a seventy-year-old, divorced alcoholic and they finally let you die in peace.”

“It has to get better at some point,” Shion insisted, a flash of panic crossing his eyes.

“Why?” Nezumi asked, leaning back in his seat.

“Why?” Shion looked up at him, confused.

“Why do you think it gets better?”

Shion opened his mouth, but didn’t say anything. His expression was interesting. Nezumi couldn’t quite place it.

“All these people here-” Nezumi gestured at the classroom, studying Shion closely. “We’re the chaff. We’re the ones they’re trying to shake loose. The ones who question authority. The ones who see through the bullshit. All the people out there-” He pointed at the locked door. “They’re the wheat. The capitol. They’re the ones who will gladly sit down at an office desk and waste any small potential they had if you give them a check every couple weeks telling them they can go buy a hamburger. A shitty car. Maybe even a house locked away in suburban sprawl that they’ll be paying off for the rest of their lives. It’s a farm, don’t you see?” Nezumi smiled lightly, fascinated by the way Shion’s eyes locked onto him, listening like his life depended on it. Interesting. “It’s a factory farm pumping out ritalin dazed, sugar crazed sheep who relish in the wool over their eyes. But if you’re smart, Shion, if you’re smart you can pull the needle out of your arm and detox from all this shit. You can do anything you want. Because these people are so damn easy to fool.”

Shion took a shuddering breath.

“It doesn’t get better. Not unless you make it.” Nezumi wrinkled his nose, scanning the shivering students. “Sometimes I think it’d be more humane to execute them all now, before the man can milk them dry and toss them out, all pathetic and raped.”

Shion swallowed roughly. “Would you?”

“Would I?”

“Would you actually…” He formed a gun with his fingers.

Nezumi smirked. “I don’t care about them enough to do them that kindness.”

Shion closed his eyes, and appeared to be counting under his breath. Nezumi was about to ask him what he was doing when he opened his eyes and spoke up. “Can I have your phone number?”

_ Very  _ interesting. “Sure.”

 

******

 

“Would you?” Shion asked, his heart pounding violently in his chest. He desperately hoped his cheeks weren’t as flushed as they felt. They did that a lot, due to the lack of melanin.

“Would I?” Nezumi tilted his head, eyes glinting dangerously.

“Would you actually…?” Would he be upset if Shion asked? He couldn’t bring himself to say it aloud. He formed a gun with his fingers, pointing it subtly at the teacher at the front of the room. The one who had sent him to detention in the first place. It had been so embarrassing. He considered himself to be a good student- a good person. But that teacher had shamed him in front of everyone for something he had no control over. Blamed him for his mother’s faults, as if he had any sort of say. He pulled his hand back quickly, as if firing the gun.

Nezumi smiled. It lit up his whole face. For a moment, Shion couldn’t breathe. “I don’t care about them enough to do them that kindness.”

Something twisted in Shion’s stomach in response to that. He closed his eyes, trying to calm down. What had his therapist said? Count backwards from ten. Breathe in on even numbers, out on odd numbers. Let the feelings threatening to choke you melt away.

Ten, nine.

_ This boy understands me. _

Eight, seven.

_ He’s not like everyone else here. _

Six, five.

_ I could be his friend. _

Four, three.

_ There’s something in his eyes I like. _

Two, one.

_ I want to keep him. _

“Can I have your phone number?” Shion asked before his nerve broke.

Nezumi scanned him up and down. “Sure.”

Shion breathed a private sigh of relief. “Okay.” He fished an old, pink flyer for some school event or another out of his backpack and scribbled down his phone number before handing it to Nezumi, who tore off a piece and wrote down his own in blue pencil. Shion stared at the numbers written in precise handwriting across the page, blue coloration standing out from the pink paper sharply. The second he was allowed his phone back he would type them in. He would send a text just to be sure Nezumi had his information. He nodded to himself, keeping this plan locked in the back of his mind.

“Where do you live that the bus doesn’t reach you?” Nezumi asked.

“Oh. Uh, way out west. I used to go to private school, so we live close to there, we- we planned on me staying, but… Things change.” He blinked rapidly at his desk. He wasn’t used to explaining, nobody at this school really talked to him.

“What, did you get kicked out?” Nezumi folded up the paper with Shion’s number on it and stuck it in his pocket.

“No! No. I left. It was… it was mutual.” He tried to remain vague. He didn’t want to have to explain, then Nezumi might not like him anymore, just like everybody else.

“Yeah.” Nezumi laughed.  _ “Mutual.  _ Isn’t that what they all say?” He shook his head slowly. “It’s alright, I’ll let you have your secrets.”

Shion smiled nervously, grateful. “Where do you live?”

Nezumi’s eyes darkened. “I have my secrets too.”

“Okay.” Shion looked down at his desk. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize for stuff, it’s pointless,” Nezumi spat.

Shion winced, instantly guilty. “Sorry- ah, I mean! Sorry, I- oh no…”

Nezumi laughed. “Chill. It’s fine. I just think apologizing doesn’t serve much of a purpose, wouldn’t you agree? Either show remorse with your actions or shut up, that’s what I think. Apologies only serve to ease the guilt of the person apologizing. It doesn’t do anything for the person wronged.”

That made a lot of sense. “Yeah.” Shion tried to smile. “You’re right.”

Detention was over a lot sooner than Shion would have expected. The bell went off, and he had barely put his books back in his backpack by the time Nezumi was out the door without so much as a goodbye. Shion quickly stuffed everything inside the main compartment and dashed away, scanning the hallways for his new friend. He wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Sighing, Shion gave up and shuffled off towards the front entrance.

His phone buzzed.

“Be a bitch latee” his mother’s text read. “Bit. AC.” she texted again a moment later.

Shion shut his eyes and counted backwards from ten. It was fine. He would have time to finish the homework he’d been distracted from during detention. He found a bench under a tree and sat down to unpack his books. English first. It was easy.

“Hey,” a voice spoke up from behind him.

Shion nearly leapt out of his skin.

“Whoa boy.” Nezumi sat down next to him. “You got a ride?”

“Yeah, my mom will be here soon.” Hopefully. “Why are you still here?”

Nezumi scoffed. “I don’t wanna go home. I’ll grab a metro bus later.” He fished a cigarette out of his pocket. “Do you smoke?”

Shion shook his head.

“Do you mind if…?”

Shion shrugged. “I don’t care.”

“Right answer. You’re alright.” Nezumi smiled and Shion swelled with pride. “Is your mom really gonna pick you up?”

Shion hesitated. “I mean, eventually.”

“Hmm,” Nezumi hummed vaguely and lit his cigarette. Shion watched as his posture shifted, and his expression relaxed before he exhaled. “God damn.” He grinned. “Better already.” He looked Shion up and down. “You’re pretty weird looking, you know?”

Shion gaped, baffled. He didn’t have a response to that.

“In a good way, though.” He quirked an eyebrow and pulled the rubber band from his hair which fell in a glossy black wave over his shoulders.

Shion just stared, mesmerized.

“So, you got two parents or just one?” Nezumi asked around a mouthful of smoke.

“I…” Shion shook himself, feeling off-center. “I  _ have  _ a dad.”

“He took off?” Nezumi nodded knowingly. “They tend to do that. So do you look like that ‘cause your mama drank while pregnant?”

It took Shion a moment to respond. This was unusual, right? This was an unusual conversation. He didn’t have much to compare it to. “N-no. Just happened. She didn’t...”

“That’s good. Maybe you  _ do  _ have some IQ points up there, then.” He tapped Shion on the side of the head.

Shion felt stunned at the touch. “Uh…” He gazed dumbly.

Nezumi smirked. “Or not?”

Shion snapped out of it. “I’m not retarded.” He crossed his arms, frowning.

“I heard you’re not supposed to use  _ the R word  _ anymore.” He sounded sarcastic, but Shion wasn’t entirely sure. “People are so careful about how they say things, but it’s an empty gesture. You can use all the nice words you want, but all it does is obfuscate the real meaning. People are the same as ever, just now the really evil people know how to sound virtuous. That’s the danger of language. See, it’s the really bad people know how to reflect your rhetorical rule back at you. Like a trojan horse, the really insidious things come wrapped in PC bows. I can twist words like that, you know. I’m really excellent at it. Good on you to be blunt like that, it will help us understand each other.” He smiled. “Verbal manipulation, virtue signalling to the gullible  _ kind  _ people. Don’t ever fall for it. People telling you how to say things rather than what to say are snakes in the grass. It’s propaganda, brainwashing everyone who’s desperate enough to be anodyne.” He laughed melodically. “Keep saying what you mean, Shion. It’s good.”

Shion’s mind hazed over at Nezumi’s hypnotic words. His heart pulsed in his fingertips. “You’re really interesting, you’re like my opposite person,” he whispered before he could stop himself. Realizing what he’d said, his eyes shot open wide, humiliation creeping up his cheeks.

Nezumi laughed, but not in a way that made Shion feel worse. He actually felt a bit calmer. Nezumi nodded, staring out over the campus. “Interesting’s one word for it.” He took a long drag on his cigarette.

“What’s another?” Shion leaned unconsciously closer.

Nezumi exhaled a cloud of smoke up into the sky. “Flammable.” He chuckled to himself. 

For the life of him, Shion couldn’t figure out what that meant. He kept his mouth shut, though, not wanting to seem stupid.

“If we’re opposite, your mama did something right. I’m an acid baby, apparently.” Nezumi glanced down at Shion’s textbooks, flipping through a few pages. “My mamma didn’t drink either, but that’s about all she didn’t do. Went into labor tripping balls. That’s gotta be pretty insane. Giving birth on acid. Bet she felt like a russian nesting doll.” He blew a smoke ring and ashed his cigarette over the grass. “Maybe that’s why I’m like this.”

_ What does that mean?  _ Shion had so many questions, but the first to make it to his tongue was, “Why are you telling me this?”

Nezumi shrugged. “No idea. Giving you a chance to run away, maybe? Maybe it’s a warning.”

“Warning?” Shion leaned minutely closer.

“I’m not a good person. But you seem to be. You’re all…” He gestured at Shion’s entire body. “Decent.” He stood up, extinguishing the butt of his cigarette on the table and flicking it to the ground.“Alright, I got places to be. See you tomorrow.”

“Yeah…” Shion watched him go, not entirely understanding what had just happened. What a strange person. He looked back down at his English workbook, where a word was circled in blue pencil.  _ Inflammable.  _ A vocabulary word. Next to it, a short note in carefully practiced handwriting:  _ things that seem opposite aren’t always so. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In order to make a really bomb terrorist cocktail, follow this recipe:  
> First, lay out an environment in which your terrorists-to-be feel persecuted. Take away their power, and make sure they understand that if they question authority, harsher punishment will follow. It’s best to leave your terrorists-in-training feeling like the rules are mostly arbitrary, and that they can break rules even through inaction or by accident. A veneer of fascism, whether real or imagined, is desirable. Next, make sure they can communicate with each other. A lone wolf can do real damage, but for a truly horrific outcome you’ll want a pair of hormonal teenage lunatics. One part psychopath, one part enamored follower. Together, they will form an unhealthy codependence that leaves them both unable to back away from the desired result without losing face. This will ensure that the final product is as deadly and traumatic as possible.


	2. Nature

Nezumi usually went to the library during lunch. He hated sitting in the crowds of people, their overlapping voices were obnoxious. He was on his way there when a hand around his wrist stopped him in his tracks. Instinct built from years of fighting kicked in before he really had a moment to assess the situation. He twisted his arm around in the grip to take hold of the person who’d startled him, latching onto their wrist. He dropped the backpack he held in his other hand and grabbed the person by the elbow, locking their arm and forcing them to their knees with a quick application of pressure.

“Oh.” Nezumi let go, dusting off his hands when he saw Shion’s terrified expression. “Don’t do that.”

“Sorry!” Shion gasped, massaging his shoulder. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” He cringed. “Or apologize. I forgot.”

“Yeah, well…” Nezumi shrugged and picked up his backpack. “What do you want?”

Shion clambered to his feet shakily, eyes wide and stunned. “Uh… I was just going to ask if you wanted to sit with me at lunch.”

“I don’t do lunch. I’m headed to the library.” Nezumi swung the backpack over his shoulder and turned to walk away.

“Wait! I’ll come with you.” Shion beamed. He bounced back quickly, it seemed. Nezumi logged that information away.

“If you want.” Nezumi started off towards the library, Shion bouncing at his heels. Over the two days since they’d met in detention, he seemed to have gotten quickly and strongly attached. Nezumi wasn’t sure what he was going to do about it. It’s not like he disliked the little weirdo, but he didn’t exactly like him either. He texted between every period, overly-enthusiastic messages about nothing important. Nezumi was pretty sure Shion didn’t have any friends, and so he seemed like a responsibility. Almost like adopting a pet. Plus, he was someone Nezumi could  _ never  _ bring to his neighborhood. He’d be mugged for sure. Nobody walked around Nezumi’s block with eyes like that. It was like wearing a target, and Nezumi didn’t want to get caught in the crossfire.

They found an empty table in the back of the library, where Shion sat down directly next to him, which was odd. He looked at Nezumi like he was awaiting orders, which was also odd.

It wasn’t like Nezumi was oblivious of the effect he had on some people, it’s just that he’d never had anyone react to him in quite the way Shion had. People tended to be dazzled at first, but their initial enthrallment was usually more subdued, and faded quickly when they realized the glossy veneer hid rough-hewn edges. Nezumi made and lost friends over the course of three months, and each friendship followed a predictable trajectory: first, they would marvel at just how interesting he was. Then, they would realize he was less interesting and more odd. Finally, they would see something dark and run away. He had to get everything he could out of people before their three month expiration date.

Nezumi wondered how long Shion would last. Would he burn out quicker due to his extreme attachment? Or perhaps last even longer given greater potential energy? It was disconcerting being ignorant of the timeline he had to work with.

“Do you have any siblings?” Shion asked, jolting Nezumi out of his musings.

Nezumi hesitated. That was a complicated question. “Yeah, sort of. You?” Maybe asking the question back would deflect further interrogation.

“Nope, just me. I think. I mean, who really knows, right? I have no idea where my dad is.” The librarian shushed him and he lowered his voice. “What do you mean, ‘sort of?’”

“I… I have a biological sister, but I don’t know where she is.” He pulled a book out of his backpack and opened it pointedly.

Shion didn’t seem to get it. “Why do you say biological? As opposed to adopted? Were you adopted?”

Another complicated question. “Yeah…” Maybe answering simply would be best, even if it was a bit of a lie.

“So you  _ do  _ have parents? Adoptive parents?” Shion leaned forwards on his elbows.

“That’s… complicated. It’s all complicated.” Damn, he was persistent.

“I like complicated.”

Nezumi tried not to let his annoyance show on his face. “I…” He bit back a sigh, resigning himself to explanation. It would probably be quicker than deterring him. “I have foster parents. Sort of. We don’t really call them parents, the people who run the home, but it’s not a state thing either so they’re technically my foster parents.”

“Do you have foster siblings?” Shion asked. Odd. People usually gave him a pitying glance at the very least.

“Again, sort of.” Nezumi gave up on the idea of reading. “There’s so many of us, and we’re not really siblings. I think of them more as roommates.”

“How many?” Jesus, did he ever stop?

“That’s… also complicated.” Nezumi doubted that answer would suffice.

“How so?” Go figure.

“They have biological kids, adoptive kids, and foster kids. There’s sixteen of us total. Six of us are fostered.” This was not a fun conversation, but Nezumi wasn’t sure how to get out of it.

“Are they really rich or something?” Shion continued his interview.

“No, just Catholics.”

“Are you Catholic?”

“Fuck no.” Nezumi folded his arms, leaning back in his chair. “Why do you care so much?”

“It’s interesting!” Shion looked at him like  _ he  _ was the crazy one. “Do they all go to this school?”

“Mostly. What’s your deal?” Nezumi narrowed his eyes.

“How do you mean?” Shion looked neither offended nor deterred.

Nezumi shrugged. “I dunno, are you autistic or something? Borderline? Bipolar? Queer? We’ve already ruled out FAS, so I’m struggling to get a read on you.”

He still didn’t look offended. “I haven’t been diagnosed with anything.”

Nezumi smiled. He couldn’t help himself. The expression on Shion’s face was just so funny, his eyes wide and absolutely uncomprehending of the attempted insults and of any social cues. Nezumi still couldn’t tell if he was stupid or not. “You’re hilarious, you know that?”

“Am I?” He tilted his head slightly, looking very much like a fluffy white dog.

“You’re very strange.”

“Well, I suppose I’m glad to be different since you don’t seem to like most people. I’ll take it as a compliment.” He smiled.

Nezumi had no response to that. He laughed, looking away. It was the rare person who caught Nezumi’s attention in a non-negative way, and Shion appeared to be doing just that. He wasn’t totally obnoxious, at least. Still, Nezumi couldn’t figure him out and that was dangerous territory.

“You’re strange, too.” Shion informed him frankly.

“Oh, I’m well aware.”

“But that’s good. Most people don’t like me, so strange people are my favorite kind.”

That struck Nezumi wrong. “Who said I like you?”

Shion finally managed to look offended. Or at least upset. “Oh.”

So that was his line? Good to know. “I never said I like you. But I fucking hate everyone, and I don’t hate you yet.”

Shion seemed to latch onto that. “I hate everyone too.” Like he had something to prove. Like he  _ needed  _ to prove himself to Nezumi. Why? Why did he care? They barely knew each other.

Still, it gave Nezumi an edge to play from. So, Shion wanted to prove himself? He wanted acceptance? Nezumi could work that angle.  _ Alright, let’s test him then. He’s a good student, never gets detention. Bet he’d hate to fail a test.  _ “Wanna ditch with me?”

Shion’s jaw dropped comically. “Ditch? You mean school?”

“Yeah, why not?” Nezumi leaned in slightly, meeting Shion’s gaze with a ferocity he figured would play right into the weirdo’s bizarre attachment issues. “We hate everyone, right?”  _ Make us sound like a team. _ “So why put up with them?”  _ Make this sound only logical. _ “Let’s just leave.”  _ Present the test. _

Shion hesitated only briefly. “Okay.”

Easy. “Right answer,” Nezumi praised and was not at all surprised to see the pride in Shion’s eyes in response to that. “Come on.” He stuffed his book back in his backpack and stood.

“Now?” Shion looked nervous.

“Or never.” Nezumi swung his backpack over his shoulder and walked out the library door without looking back. Make him panic a little. Give him a ticking timer. Just the right amount of pressure.

Shion shot up from his seat like a rocket and scrambled to get his stuff together before running after Nezumi.

Nezumi grinned when he caught up. So, that’s what his deal was. Nezumi was beginning to put him together. He wanted acceptance. He wanted attachment. Maybe he’d never gotten it from his mother the alcoholic. Maybe he was traumatized by the departure of his dead-beat dad. And for whatever reason, he wanted that acceptance and attachment from Nezumi.

Very interesting.

 

******

 

Anxiety gripped his chest when Shion saw Nezumi walk away and out the library door. He rushed to follow, swinging his backpack over his shoulders and taking off after him.

It seemed  _ way  _ too easy to ditch school. They just… walked out the door. Simple as that. Had it always been so easy? Sure, it’s not like there were guards at the doors, but Shion had expected someone to notice.

“Won’t the cameras see us?” Shion whispered, keeping close behind Nezumi.

He scoffed. “The cameras are useless. See the red light?” He pointed at the security camera above the doorway.

“No.” Shion squinted at it, feeling stupid.

“Exactly.” Nezumi smirked. “It’s been dead since freshman year. Nobody bothered to replace it. I don’t know if it’s not in the budget or they just don’t care, but either way I’ve tested it a million times. It can’t see us.”

“Oh.” Wow, he was so observant. Shion smiled and tried to push down the feelings creeping through his bloodstream. It wasn’t good to get so attached to people. He knew that. It was something he was working on, but also something he couldn’t really help. Besides, Nezumi seemed nice enough. He seemed strong. Solid. Shion bit back the desire to reach out and touch as Nezumi walked so confidently out the front door and into the parking lot without a moment’s hesitation or a glance back. “Where are we going?” Shion whispered as they walked right out to the street.

“A place I know,” Nezumi answered vaguely. They walked a bit down the street to a bus stop, where they stopped. “You have a bus pass, right?” Nezumi scanned him up and down. He did that a lot. Shion felt like he was being x-rayed.

“Yeah.” Shion fished his wallet out of his pocket and took out the yellow metro card. “Will they ask questions?”

“Who, the bus driver?” Nezumi raised an eyebrow. “Doubt it. Just say you’re homeschooled if anyone asks.”

“Okay.” Shion nodded dutifully, which Nezumi seemed to like. “I’ll follow your lead,” he added for good measure.

The bus showed up a few minutes later, and they boarded to no interrogation or odd glances. Nezumi took a seat in the back, and Shion sat down next to him.

“Where are we going?” he asked again.

“Somewhere fun,” Nezumi answered just as vaguely.

Although the uncertainty of it all gave Shion a bit of anxiety, he kind of liked the mystery. It was like they were going on an adventure. He watched the street signs, trying to come up with some estimation of where they were headed, but he couldn’t glean much. It seemed like they were headed towards the park, but Nezumi stayed seated right through that stop.

A moment later, he pulled the yellow chain signaling the driver to stop. They stood and got off at the next corner.

“Up for a bit of a hike?” Nezumi asked in a way that didn’t sound like he was actually going to give Shion much of a choice in the matter.

“I’m up for anything,” Shion replied, trying to sound confident. His heart was pounding in his throat at the realization that they had actually for real ditched school, which was something Shion had always thought he’d never do.

Up ahead was the river. It ran directly through the middle of the city, splitting it clean into two parts. North and South. Shion lived North in suburbia, technically not even within the city limits. South was where the “heart” of the city supposedly was, although Shion had always been skeptical of people who said that. It seemed to him that when people said “heart,” they really meant “poor.” When people said “charm,” they really meant “ungentrified.”

Nezumi turned west, heading into the woods. Shion’s eyes widened fractionally, as he was pretty sure people weren’t allowed out there. There probably wasn’t a law against it since it was public land, he realized, but he’d always sort of thought of the woods as… somehow off limits. They ducked through foliage, Nezumi leading the way as confidently as if he were walking through his own home. They wove around tree stumps and cliffsides, following what barely counted as a trail. Shion wouldn’t have been able to track it without Nezumi leading the way.

Eventually, voices became audible up ahead.

“-it aligns your chakras. Dude, let me show you. You just take a… a copper pipe and put a charged crystal inside. It takes electricity from the air, man. Then you just… boop boop boop. Tap your chakras and they get in line. It’s science, yo.”

“Bull.”

“Not bull! I swear! It works even better if… you know monatomic gold is actually white? So you just eat some of that, and it gives you the power to see auras. So that way when you align your chakras, you can actually see it happening.”

The trees cleared away to show a part of the river Shion had never seen before. It was shallow, probably only a couple inches deep, and groups of what could only be described as hippies sat around it, smoking and babbling to each other.

“Oh,  _ hey!”  _ One man with matted hair squinted at Nezumi. “I know you.”

“Probably, I’m here a lot.” Nezumi sat down by the water and took off his shoes.

Shion sat down next to him, anxious about the odd people with facial tattoos. “Who are these people?” he whispered to Nezumi.

He shrugged. “River hippies. Forest people. They live down here, some of them.”

In daily life, Shion tried his best not to talk to homeless people. The psychotic look in their eyes was haunting, and he didn’t like to think about their awful situation. “Why are we here?”

Nezumi grinned. “For this.” He waved at a young girl with a guitar. “Hey, can I play a song?”

She blinked blearily. “Huh? Oh. Yeah, for sure.” She staggered over and handed him the guitar.

“Here’s how you get anything you want,” he whispered to Shion and strummed a chord. Carefully, he picked out a gentle melody, which caught the attention of several onlookers.  _ “I’ve left my mark on plenty lives,”  _ he sang softly.  _ “Set bridges burning countless times. Assuring no one follows me but ghosts and my anxieties.”  _ A girl in a hammock smiled at him.  _ “I ran away from all the answers to questions that I never asked but swallowed with the other lies I learned to sit and memorize.” _

People shushed each other and scooted closer to listen.

Nezumi raised an eyebrow to Shion which clearly said “told ya.” He smiled sweetly at the forming audience.  _ “Those who stay will live to be a million, they’ll love until it kills them. Doing fine. I run away and I’m lost within the billions, like the other helpless children. Being mine.” _

Shion watched Nezumi’s fingers deftly pick out arpeggios across the metal strings of the borrowed guitar. His voice was beautiful- sweet and soft. Shion’s heart flipped over in his chest.

_ “I never said I’m not a child; I’m stupid, brash, and infantile. But grown-up people claim it’s wise learning how to compromise. I ran away to cast the chains of knowledge and of growing pains. So pull the net out, shake the lead out, I’m scared but I will stick my head out.”  _ He cast a subtle smile Shion’s direction.  _ “Those who stay will live to be a million, they’ll love until it kills them. Doing time. I run away and I’m lost within the billions, like the other rebel children. Being mine.”  _ He ended the song on a resonant chord and handed the girl back her guitar.

“Dude that shit was dope. Did you write that? You got a good voice, man,” one clearly drugged man said. “You wanna smoke with us?”

“I wouldn’t say no.” Nezumi grinned. “See?” he said under his breath, turning to Shion. He took the offered glass pipe and took a hit while Shion watched with wide, terrified eyes.

What should he do? He didn’t want to do drugs. He especially didn’t want to do drugs with homeless people he’d never even met before. It seemed horribly dangerous, and like exactly the kind of thing his mother would warn him against.

Nezumi looked at him questioningly. “What’s your deal, you down for this?”

Shion hesitated. “Um…”

“So you’ve never…?” An excited glint came to Nezumi’s eyes. “I would love to watch you lose your virginity.”

Shion looked around at all the strangers with tie dyes and tattoos. He didn’t want to be the odd one out, or for Nezumi to reject him, but this also seemed like a  _ very  _ bad idea. “I… I’ve never… I don’t know if I’ll…”

Nezumi scooted closer. Shion could feel his body heat, and that was… distracting. “It’s mild. You won’t start hallucinating or anything, it’s just… well, not like alcohol but not exactly  _ unlike  _ alcohol either.” He touched Shion’s arm lightly, which was also distracting. “I’ll take care of you.”

Shion could feel his heartbeat in his fingertips. Being taken care of by Nezumi… that sounded  _ really  _ nice. He could feel the flush coming to his cheeks, and he hoped desperately that Nezumi wouldn’t notice. “I don’t know…”

“I won’t let anything bad happen to you,” Nezumi said softly, his voice low and enticing. “I promise.” He put his arm behind Shion’s back, leaning in close. “Don’t you trust me?”

A rush of something like desire, though Shion wasn’t entirely sure what for, overtook his rational mind. He stared at the sly curve of Nezumi’s smile, the way the corner of his mouth ticked upwards just slightly. The way his lips were just parted, full and pink and-

“So?”

Shion blinked. “Okay.” It wasn’t the worst thing in the world, after all. And if Nezumi was there to look after him and take care of him, then that was definitely worth it.

It burned more than he expected. He supposed he should have anticipated it, given that fire was involved. Obviously smoke would be hot. He screwed his eyes shut, bracing himself for impact.

Nothing happened.

“I don’t feel anything.”

Everyone around him laughed.

“Give it a second.” Nezumi smiled. “Good things come to those who wait.” He put his hand on Shion’s knee, instantly setting off alarms.

_ Oh God. He’s touching me. Oh no, I think I like him. Stop it, you idiot. Dumb, stupid idiot. What’s wrong with you? You always do this. You get so attached, it never means anything. What did doctor Juiliani say? Chill. Hold back. Just… hold back.  _ He took a deep breath, anxiety twisting painfully in with his desire to get closer.  _ You’re reading into things, you stupid moron. You always do this. Just calm down, dumbass. _

“You look anxious,” Nezumi whispered, leaning closer. His hand slid a little further up Shion’s thigh. “Don’t worry about a thing. I have everything under control. I’ve got you.”

Shion struggled not to hyperventilate. It was like he was feeling every emotion at once, and he didn’t know what to do with himself. “I trust you.”

“That’s right. I know you do.” Nezumi kissed him on the cheek.

Shion broke. The entire world spun away from him at once, and he stopped caring for the first time in his life. He knew his cheeks must be burning red at this point, and it was probably blatantly obvious to everyone how affected he was. He didn’t even care about that. All he cared about was the beautiful haze that took his mind away and this beautiful boy who was actually paying attention to him. He couldn’t let him go. He would say anything, do anything so as not to let him go. “Everyone else is terrible.”

“That’s true.” Nezumi pulled him close. The sensation of touching a person- a  _ real live  _ person- was overwhelming. “But I like you.”

Shion could have cried. “You do?”

“I do,” Nezumi confirmed. “Because you understand, don’t you? You understand me. And I understand you.”

That’s all he’d ever wanted. For someone to understand and accept him. He leaned into Nezumi’s side, feeling for once like he was on a team. Like he had someone who was on his side and wouldn’t forget about him. Wouldn’t leave him. That was a better drug than anything the forest people could give to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next step towards creating a terrorism cocktail that’s simply to die for is rule breaking. It’s important that your little soon-to-be-murderers have a rebellious streak. Make them feel as if they can cause a revolution by letting minor criminal acts go undetected. These small cries for help are a way for your homicidal kiddos to test the water a bit. If they were being punished for small infractions such as speaking out of turn or expressing opinions that their authority figures found distasteful, turn a blind eye or completely fail to notice actual red flags such as ditching school, drug use, or socialization with dangerous people. This with reaffirm their growing beliefs that the rules set by ‘the man’ are mere token gestures of civil order, and that their punishers don’t truly care what’s best for them the children, but only care about enforcing rules that inflate their own egos and sense of dominance. These feelings of injustice give a real kick to the final product, which is now beginning to brew beneath the surface.


	3. Nurture

Shion was wrapped around Nezumi’s finger. Testing him the other week by taking him out of school had been more successful than Nezumi would ever have predicted. And though he would never admit it, he liked having Shion around. It was good to have someone to talk to. It was good to have someone as pliant as him to drag along like an imprinted duckling. It made the world feel a little more solid.

That said, comparing everyone else in the school to Shion made Nezumi hate them all the more. The whispered insults of  _ faggot, beta,  _ and  _ tism fuck  _ grated against his ears. Even the breathing of his fellow students felt like fire ants in his brain. He started wearing ear buds during class just so he didn’t have to hear them clear their throats or scratch their idiot notes down on their moronic papers. Of course, this got him in even more trouble with the teachers when they noticed, which had him in ISS around twice a week. In some ways, he didn’t mind. Missing classes meant things were at least vaguely more challenging when he had to catch up.

Anger pounded against the inside of his skull all day where he struggled to contain it. He knew any outbursts would get him sent home, and he really didn’t want to have to face his foster parents any sooner than he had to. More specifically, he didn’t want to face his foster father. The man was a chronic alcoholic with a serious pornography addiction. A couple of his ex-foster sisters who had aged out of the system were now webcam models thanks to him. Nezumi had seen them online, squeezing their fake tits and making out with each other.

When the final bell rang to release him from detention, Nezumi stuck two cigarettes in his mouth and shuffled off towards the metro bus stop. He sucked them down to the butt as quickly as possible before the bus arrived, letting the buzz smack him across the face as he found a seat in the back that didn’t have gum stuck to it.

He pulled the hood of his jacket over his head and turned up the music in his ears as loud as it would go. Anything to drown out the sound of everyone’s fat folds rubbing against each other like they were trying to start a fire. People made him feel sick. Their expressions were dull, staring out at a world Nezumi didn’t imagine they comprehended. To him, they seemed like snails with empty eyes, leaving trails of slime wherever they went. He always stepped on snails when he could find them. He liked the way their shells cracked and shattered, releasing gooey innards that squirted out onto the sidewalk beneath his foot. It was satisfying. If only he could step on people the same way. The crack of their skulls and the squelch of their stupid boring brains across the grimy linoleum of the school cafeteria. That would probably be even more satisfying.

He’d seen videos of people getting shot. It didn’t look like it did in video games and movies. They stayed standing for a long time, confusion in their eyes as some trigger happy cop pumped them full of lead. That look of confusion was so fascinating. In video games, characters screamed as spurts of blood erupted out of their bodies before they fell over instantly dead. Not real people. There wasn’t much blood. If they had thick enough clothes on, you couldn’t see the blood at all. The pop of a firearm, and then Nezumi could see the alarm flashing through their whole body as their hearts and vascular system struggled to figure out what was going on as pressure rapidly dropped. It was like their already empty brains shut down even further, leaving them in shock as they stood in sheer confusion for a long moment before they finally collapsed to slowly bleed out on the ground over the course of a few minutes.

Real death is slow. Because humans aren’t built to die. There’s no control-alt-delete for a human body. No off switch. Just system failure as the system struggles to survive.

The bus shuddered to a halt at the stop nearest his house. Nezumi stood and clambered out, a little off balance thanks to the nicotine. He walked a bit down the street and stood facing the three-foot high townhouse that was cut straight down the middle to be split with cocaine dealer neighbors.

His foster mother was sitting on the porch, drinking an iced glass of what looked like tea. She nodded when she saw him. “So I hear you’re queer now,” she called out to him.

Nezumi looked nervously down the street, hoping no one significant heard that. He didn’t want trouble. “Who said that?” he asked dully as he walked up the drive to the porch.

“One of y’all, I dunno.” She jerked her head towards the door, referencing his many ‘siblings.’ “Is that true?”

“No.” Nezumi pulled another cigarette from his backpack and lit it. “Just a rumor. I made a friend.”

“The albino?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah.”

“Figures. Can’t make normal friends, huh?” She sniffed.

Nezumi shrugged, past being offended by these people. “He’s a cuck. He does what I say.” He exhaled slowly, watching the smoke dissipate into the air.

“You’re not supposed to have those.” She smirked.

“Gonna punish me for it?” Nezumi smirked back.

“Not if I can bum one.” She held out her hand.

He laughed and passed her one. “Bitch.”

“Faggot,” she retorted, lighting the stoge with a Zippo. “How old are you? Fifteen?” She scanned him up and down.

“Sixteen,” he corrected. “I mean, I think. Officially.”

She sucked her teeth. “That’s right, you’re the one we couldn’t figure out your birthday.”

“It’s January first on all my documents, though.” They’d just assigned him that date since his birth mother didn’t remember.

“Were you the crack baby?” she asked around a mouthful of smoke.

“Acid baby.” He grinned. “It was in my momma’s breast milk.”

“I’d drink acid laced breast milk,” she said thoughtfully. “Sounds pretty alright. I guess Lucy was the crack baby. Her name mixed me up.”

“Probably her, she’s pretty fucked up.” Nezumi thought about the girl. She was crazy. He finished off his cigarette and tossed the butt between the floorboards. “Alright, I’m out.”

“Do your homework,” she called after him as he walked inside.

“You ain’t my momma,” he called back, laughing.

She laughed too, and he shut the front door.

Inside his house was just as loud as school. People were running up and down the stairs, fighting and arguing. His bedroom was on the third floor. They were separated by parental status. The foster kids on the top floor, the adopted kids on the second floor, and the biological kids on the ground floor. That’s how the hierarchy worked. Privileges, clothes, money, and even food was doled out in that order, meaning the foster kids got whatever was left over. Nobody questioned the system. They didn’t have the power to.

He plugged his phone into the charger by the corner and noticed an unopened text message.

“I think eugenics gets a bad rap.” Shion.

Nezumi laughed, opening it up to reply. “Think so?”

He texted back almost immediately. “Yeah. It would be better for the world if with euthanized all the idiots. Then maybe we’d have world peace.”

Nezumi sat down, leaning against the wall so his phone could charge while he replied. “What qualifies as an idiot worthy of euthanasia?”

“Almost all of them.”

Nezumi wondered if Shion was just telling him what he thought he wanted to hear, or if he really did believe what he was saying. If so, what had prompted this sudden confession of murderous sympathies? “What makes you say this?”

“Talking to you has opened my mind.”

Ah. So he  _ was  _ just saying what he thought Nezumi wanted to hear. Or he was already brainwashed. Which was better? Nezumi couldn’t decide. He liked it either way. “I’m glad I could impact you.”

“You really have.”

Nezumi stared down at the screen thoughtfully. He’d never met a person before who was so quickly and radically compliant. It would be almost touching if he cared to feel such emotions, which he didn’t. Satisfying might be a better word for what he was feeling. That was one of the two emotions Nezumi ever bothered to deal with. Satisfaction and anger. The only two truly useful feelings in his opinion. The world made a lot more sense if you thought of it in those terms. Find what makes you angry, and seek satisfaction to scratch that itch. Thinking that way allowed a person to truly take advantage of their natural intelligence. No useless emotions clouding rational judgement. Like a computer. Quick, efficient, and utterly lacking sympathy.

Nezumi knew he was a bad person. Logically, he ticked every box of society’s standard definition of evil. He took advantage of people, hurting both their feelings and their bodies. He saw them as below him, unworthy of equality. Or better said, worthy of  _ exactly  _ what they were due. He felt everyone should get what they deserved based on their merits, and he had no problem being the doer of justice. Those who dared step above their stations should be cut down harshly. Less intelligent people who wielded more power than those smarter than them should be punished for stepping out of line. People were unworthy of equality  _ to him.  _ Because he was not their equal. He was so much cleverer, so much better in almost every conceivable way.

Society saw this viewpoint as evil. Nezumi agreed. The problem was, he simply didn’t care.

He’d explained this all to Shion, who had apparently taken it to heart.

“I’m writing down everything you tell me,” Shion texted.

Nezumi stared at that text for a moment, unsure how to react. “What do you mean?”

“Everything you say about people getting what they deserve, I’m writing down those arguments in what I hope will be a comprehensive explanation of our ideology.”

_ Our ideology.  _ Nezumi cocked his head, smiling at that. “You’re writing a manifesto,” he confirmed.

“Yeah, I guess.”

That’s when an idea struck Nezumi so hard he gasped aloud. The world clouded over before his eyes, and the phone slipped out of his hands and clattered to the ground. His hands were shaking with an adrenaline rush that yanked him up so high he was glad he was already sitting. He took a few deep breaths, forcing himself to calm down. He picked up the phone shakily and typed out a message. “Call me.”

 

******

 

Shion blinked at the message, anxiety squeezing his chest. Was he angry? Was he upset that Shion was writing things down, was that weird? He struggled not to hyperventilate. What did it mean? Was he going to say Shion couldn’t talk to him anymore?

He was sitting in bed with his homework abandoned in the corner and his computer open to the document he’d been working on. It was already sixteen pages long. He was aiming for around forty or fifty, which would translate to a bit under a hundred pages of a print book. A slim but impactful piece of persuasive prose.

Shion swallowed roughly, trying not to spin into a panic attack. He needed to call. It wouldn’t be good to keep him waiting, he needed to call immediately. He screwed his eyes shut and hit the button, bringing the phone to his ear.

“Let’s do it.”

“What?” Shion opened his eyes, a bit thrown.

“Let’s practice what we preach.” Nezumi’s voice was shaking slightly, but he didn’t sound angry at all. “Write our manifesto, then let’s actually do it. Let’s kill them.”

Shion’s brain shut down. “Kill… kill who?”

“Everyone. Everyone at school.”

Shion’s jaw dropped. He stared blindly in front of him, too many conflicting emotions eating away at his guts for him to respond.

“It will make international news. Everyone will want to read our book. We can spread the word  _ worldwide.”  _ Nezumi spoke in a tone Shion had never heard him use before. He was usually so… cadent. Practiced. Now he sounded raw. Excited. It was enticing.

“Uh…” Shion said dumbly, too stunned to form real words.

“This is how we can change the world, Shion. Just like you said. Euthanasia. They deserve it. Let’s give them what they deserve. Just like you said, remember?”

That is what he said. Had this been his idea? “B-b-but…” Shion’s teeth were chattering.

“You were right,” Nezumi continued. “This is what we need to do. Everything I say… I’ve been all talk and no action. But you’re right. We  _ do  _ need to do something. You’re so smart, you’re so right.”

“I-I-I…” Shion struggled to speak, though he didn’t know what to say.

Nezumi sighed. His breath felt close. Alive. “We’re so good for each other, don’t you think?”

“Yes!” Shion answered instinctively. “Yes, we are.”

“I think I need someone like you.”

That was exactly what Shion wanted to hear. His lip trembled as overwhelming emotion filled him. “I love you.” The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could do anything to stop them.

Nezumi hummed, sounding satisfied. “I love you too. I’m so glad you’re with me. We’re going to change the world, you and I.”

Shion choked back a sob. Everything was just so much.

“I have to go. I’ll see you at school tomorrow and we can talk. Don’t put anything in text, okay? Don’t put  _ anything in text.” _

Shion opened his mouth, but no words came out.

“I’ll talk to you later,” Nezumi said softly before hanging up.

The world was spinning. Shion couldn’t breathe, air felt like an intrusion. He dragged his fingers through his hair, suffocating under the weight of his own feelings. Everything seemed off. Like he was much too big for the room he was in. Though when he put his hands against his stomach, his body seemed far too small. He stood, feeling weightless, and instantly fell to his hands and knees, coughing violently as he finally gasped for breath. His entire body broke out in a cold sweat as nausea took hold; his body’s desperate response to his brain’s disorientation.

_ I did all of this,  _ his thoughts spun wildly, disjointed to the point of absurdity.  _ My room is too small and still blue. My baby room. I hate these floorboards. I want my dad back, I’m going to be a murderer. I love him so much. I love you dad, I hate this room. I hate everything. I love him so much. Beautiful boy blue, I hate my school. I feel sick. He fucked up my life. He fucked up my mom when he left. We were so happy, I’m gonna fuck up my life. I’m gonna die. I feel sick. I’m dying. I love him. Why did he leave? I can’t let him go. _

Anxiety and desperation built to it’s peak, and Shion vomited, shaking uncontrollably as tears streamed down his face. He let himself cry openly, knowing his mother was already passed out on the couch downstairs. She wouldn’t hear him. Maybe if she wasn’t such an alcoholic, she would have heard him and come to help. Maybe she could have prevented this. She should have prevented this. If it weren’t for her, none of this would have to happen.

Shion sat back, clutching his cramped stomach and screaming in rage through a hoarse throat. Parents were so irresponsible. His pussy of a dad had run out on him, his fuck-up of a mother had given up on him. Idiot parents bred idiot children, and that was irresponsible and wrong, too. His fucked up parents had bred a fucked up kid, and now he was going to kill all the idiot parent’s idiot kids.

Maybe if Nezumi’s parents had been better, they wouldn’t have lost him to CPS and he wouldn’t be so ready to gun down his classmates either.

Shion wiped his mouth on his sleeve and snatched his computer from his bed, preferring not to move from where he sat. He was going to make sure parents treated their children better. Every parent who would read his manifesto following the shooting would be forced to reconsider what they were doing to their children. That could prevent countless mass murders in the future. A war for peace, that’s what this was.

Furiously, Shion typed his frustration into his computer, and felt much better. They were going to hear him. Everyone was going to hear him. That would make it worth it, what they were going to do. Well worth it. It was for the greater good, and it was the lesser of two evils. He couldn’t let adults continue to fuck up their children, and to continue to breed sub-par babies. It wasn’t right.

And he was going to put a stop to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To create a terrorist cocktail that will kill at any party, a certain level of complexity is desired. Of your two trainee slaughterhouses, the psychopath must understand the truth of the matter at hand. Ideally, he should understand the evil nature of the deed he is planning, but not particularly care that what he is doing is wrong. If not a congenital personality disorder, this effect can be created by impeding cognitive development either by drug use during pregnancy and/or breastfeeding, or by emotional abuse and/or neglect during early childhood.  
> As for the follower, be sure he develops an inflated sense of purpose and a need to strive for his ideals. He should be convinced of the moral right he is doing, which can be cemented in his brain through a refusal to question his leader. If the follower feels cornered into performing this atrocity, or feels the pressure of potentially losing the charismatic psychopath he is so enamored with, he will eventually persuade himself of the morality of the murder and come up with his own reasons to be an active part of the tragedy.


	4. Personality Disorders

Walking into school the next day was surreal. Nezumi watched people pass him by, utterly oblivious to their own imminent demise. How many of them would die? He wasn’t a fool, he knew they’d never be able to exterminate them all. How many could they manage? Twenty? Fifty? A hundred? More? He had a map of the school in his pocket and a head full of data on where the highest concentration of students would be and when. Lunch time. They could build a bomb. Take out the nearly five hundred students that would be sitting enjoying their shitty school food. The library was another good location. It was near the front exit, so he could herd them all into that confined space just by standing by the door. Maybe the gym. That was near the back exit. If they set a bomb to go off in the cafeteria during lunch, any survivors and those with a different lunch period would instantly run for the exits. He and Shion could stand by each, corralling them like sheep into enclosed spaces where they could then pick them off one by one. Maximum destruction.

“Hey.” Shion jogged to catch up with him as he made his way to the library for first period. He wrapped both his arms around one of Nezumi’s and pulled him close. “I have about thirty pages written. That’s around 17 thousand words.”

“You work quickly,” Nezumi praised. “It’s a shame you’ll die before you can procreate.”

Shion’s eyelids drooped and he sighed like that was the sexiest thing he’d ever heard. “You too. What a waste to put a bullet through that brilliant brain.”

A thought occurred to Nezumi. “Should we give them our brains? For science?”

Shion winced. “I don’t want to be shot in the body. I’d rather it be quick.”

“We could poison ourselves,” Nezumi reasoned. “If no one shoots us first. Then smart people could figure out what’s wrong with us. I don’t mind leaving data for scientists. They deserve it.”

Shion frowned. “I don’t think anything’s wrong with us.”

Right. Nezumi backpedaled, realizing his slip-up. “Wrong in their eyes. Whatever label they prefer to put on us. Antisocial Personality Disorder, that’s what they called me.” They walked into the library, finding a couple computers in the back so they could sign in, let the authorities know they were accounted for.

“I haven’t been diagnosed with anything,” Shion said softly, staring blankly at his computer screen.

“It’s all nonsense anyway.  _ Personality disorder,”  _ he scoffed. “I think it’s pointless to diagnose those. They’re not really treatable. It’s your  _ personality.  _ They just want a form to submit to the government so they can put you in a special category of abnormal. It doesn’t even matter for insurance, you know? It’s tier two. So they have to give you secondary diagnoses if they want to medicate you. Anxiety, depression, aggression… all the basic issues everyone has. Because they know you can’t really do shit about a broken personality.” He clenched his fists, trying to satiate the anger rising in his chest.

“You know a lot about this,” Shion said, not making eye contact.

“I know a lot about everything,” Nezumi dismissed, clicking through to the computer science web portal they were supposed to be focussing on. “And I have a plan.”

Shion’s sharp intake of breath signified his attention.

Nezumi went through his idea in detail, explaining how they might herd the students into the most convenient locations.

“Can you build a bomb?” Shion asked, leaning in.

“Yeah, no problem.” Nezumi smirked. Engineering was something he was particularly adept at. “I can make it fit in a backpack. All we have to do is go to lunch for a second, leave it under a table, and then go to our marks. Simple.”

Shion exhaled slowly. “It all sounds so… doable.”

“That’s because it is. The only thing holding back the average person from being able to murder hundreds is a sense of morality. Overcome that, and you can do anything. The resources are there, you just have to be willing to use them.” God fucking bless this country.

Shion was quiet for a long time before he spoke in barely a whisper. “When?”

Nezumi considered that. How long would it take him to acquire all the guns and ammunition he needed? The pressure cooker and other bomb making materials were already in his house. Probably a week maximum. His foster father had guns. So did some of his friends. Plus, he had a fake ID that would probably get him past a couple gun show dumbasses. There was a gun show pretty much every day right around the corner from his house. Yeah. He could do it in a week. “How long do you need to finish your manifesto?”

Shion hummed. “I can finish tonight if I focus. Editing and printing could take maybe four days? How do you want me to distribute it?”

“Let’s leave a copy in each of our bedrooms, and one in the principal’s office.” Nezumi thought through the police proceedings. “Maybe post it on the internet. Set up a queue and have it upload after we’re done. That way if the government tries to classify the print copies, there’ll be a back up.” Nezumi could feel the pieces clicking together. Satisfying. “So let’s do this next Wednesday.”

Shion made a strangled noise in the back of his throat. “So soon?”

“The quicker we do this, the less likely it is someone will find out and stop us,” Nezumi reasoned. “Plus don’t you think it’s better not to have to think about it for too long?”

Shion nodded weakly. “I guess.” He blinked rapidly at his computer screen. “Do you wanna come over tonight?”

Nezumi frowned. “What, to your place?”

Shion nodded, blushing deeply. “Yeah.”

It did sound nice to be able to get out of his shitty house for a bit. “Yeah, okay.”

Shion looked like the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. “Okay.”

Nezumi watched him in his peripheral vision as they did their computer science work. What a strange kid. He wondered if Shion would actually have made it past the three month expiration date most of his friends seemed to have. Oh well, he’d never know now. Best not to test it. Best not to risk Shion backing out and turning him in. Maybe he should get some sort of proof that Shion was planning this with him. Just in case he chickened out at the last second. Enough to make sure he’d spend the rest of his life in prison if he dared say a word. The manifesto would do, probably. He could get it tonight, when he was at Shion’s house. Save it to a thumb drive and mail it to his ex-foster sister’s PO box if he ever wavered in his convictions. That was probably a good idea. Just in case. Although, the way Shion looked at him… it probably wouldn’t be necessary. He could probably just as certainly assure Shion’s loyalty by sucking the little weirdo’s dick. He was already so clearly head-over-heels in love. He really did have attachment issues. Nezumi nodded to himself. That was the best way to play it. Use the kid’s intense infatuation against him. He doubted Shion would have the courage of his convictions to say no if he knew it meant being abandoned.

Worries quelled, Nezumi quickly completed his work for the period and pulled out a book from his backpack. Things were falling together. It was all going to work out perfectly.

 

******

 

Shion was counting his breaths, trying to quell his anxieties as he waited for his mother to arrive to pick Nezumi and him up from school. He was silently praying she would show up on time and sober. He checked his phone compulsively, watching the time and waiting for any message saying she was going to be late.

Thankfully, she pulled up in the parking lot only five minutes after she said she would.

“Hey, baby.” She smiled at him, reaching out the window to ruffle his hair. “Oh, hello.” She smiled in her slightly off-center way at Nezumi. “You’re spending the night, right?”

Nezumi hesitated for a moment, affect flat before snapping into gear, like someone had pulled a string in his back. “Hi, yes. Nezumi. Shion and I have Computer Science and English together, but we only recently really started talking. Unfortunate, really, we could have met long ago. Ah well, better late than never, right? It’s good to meet you, Ms…?”

“Oh, call me Karan.” She seemed charmed. Shion was glad.

They climbed into the backseat, Shion’s anxieties lessening.

“So, what’s your deal, Nezumi? What are you all about?” Karan looked at him in the rearview mirror as they pulled out of the parking lot.

Nezumi hesitated again. Almost like there was a processing delay in his brain. “Well, I suppose if I were to describe myself I’d say I’m a fan of books, music, and science. I spend a lot of my time reading, perhaps that’s why I don’t meet too many people, wouldn’t you say?” He laughed delicately.

“Avid reader, huh? You must do well in school.”

Shion glanced between his mother and Nezumi, wondering how this was all going to turn out.

Nezumi paused again, but quickly snapped back into play. “That’s one area I’m sure Shion could be a good influence on me. Maybe I’m just too distractible, I suppose I should pay more attention.”

Karan nodded, seemingly satisfied with that answer. “Shion’s always got his head in the clouds as well, I’m amazed he gets the grades he does. So are you two studying tonight?”

Shion’s eyes widened, and he clenched his hands together nervously.

Nezumi stepped in. “We’re working on a creative writing project, yes.” Well. That wasn’t a lie. “As well as some mathematics; basic engineering and programming.”

“Right, Computer Science and English.” Karan smiled. “Good for you two.”

Nezumi smirked at Shion who shook his head slowly, wishing he had the kind of confidence it took not to lie without sounding suspicious. They chatted this way for the entire drive home, Nezumi not once telling a lie about anything, yet still managing to avoid the truth. When they finally pulled up in the driveway of Shion’s house, he wasn’t sure whether he was anxious or not. He felt sort of queasy, but he was confident Nezumi had the situation under control.

Once inside, they trotted up the stairs to Shion’s room. Shion had cleaned and organized everything the night before, so he wanted to go there directly before Nezumi had a chance to see the catastrophe that was the rest of the house.

Nezumi looked around the sizable bedroom, impressed. “Nice room. Spacious.” He sat down on Shion’s bed with a bounce. “Alright, let me see.”

Shion hesitated. “...See?”

“Our  _ creative writing project.”  _ Nezumi grinned. “We’re studying, remember?”

“Oh, right.” Shion set down his backpack and pulled out his computer, opening the document and handing it to Nezumi who read while Shion watched, nervous.

Nezumi nodded occasionally, his affect mostly flat, which was intimidating. His eyes flicked quickly back and forth as he scrolled down at a consistent pace. He must be a fast reader. Only once he was finished did he look up. “Good.”

Relief rushed through Shion’s body like floodwater. “Yeah?”

“It’s clear you understand what you’re talking about.” Nezumi shut the computer. “Which is not something I say lightly. Most people don’t seem to recognize the words coming out of their own mouths. It’s like they’re just programmed. You use words… differently. You have real… what am I trying to say? You know what the meaning is. The, um…” He snapped his fingers, looking for the word. “Not comprehension, more like you care about the words if that makes sense.”

Shion frowned. “Feeling?”

Nezumi nodded slowly. “Maybe that is what I mean. You have feeling. Yes, I think so. I couldn’t write that way. I come across as…” He frowned again. “I hate not knowing what word I’m looking for. The opposite of real feeling. Not apathetic, though.”

“Disingenuous?” Shion asked tentatively.

“Exactly. Disingenuous. Empty.” Nezumi smiled. “You’re certainly useful.”

Shion swelled with pride.

“So, how much more do you have to write?” He stood.

Shion considered. “I wanted to add a call to action. A direct command for those who read it, so we don’t come across as just complaining. I want a rallying cry that people can get behind. But I’m not sure what that is yet.

Nezumi’s eyebrows drew together as he thought about it. “Something to get people moving… Like a threat? Tell them to expect more violence if they don’t comply?”

Shion bit his lip. That didn’t sound right, but he wasn’t sure how to say so. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” There was a slight edge to Nezumi’s voice. “You disagree?”

Shion shook his head quickly. “No! No, I don’t disagree. I’m… I’m just still thinking.”

“Well, while you’re thinking, let me show you how to make a bomb.”

Shion’s blood ran cold. “How to…” His voice was weak.

Nezumi pulled out a notebook from his backpack and opened it up to a diagram. “See? The pressure builds, but since it’s a closed container it can’t catch fire. Only when it detonates will everything expand all at once and burn what it touches. I figure we can make two, one in each of our backpacks. The blast radius will vary based on the pressure cooker, so I can’t be certain exactly how far apart to place them for ideal destruction. We’ll just have to guess.”

Shion inspected the markings on the notebook, intricate mathematics and complicated engineering. He didn’t understand it, but it sent doom rattling into his bones. “Oh…” he tried to reply, and cleared his throat. “Okay.” The world felt so very distant. Distant and heavy and cold, like a lonely comet he had no way to control. Nihilism ate away at his brain from inside of his skull, sadness beyond himself taking over his senses. Truly, everything was ultimately meaningless. This world is chaos and sadness and pain, let it burn in one angry burst of destruction, let him lash back just once at whatever uncaring God dared to create this misery. “Okay.” He swallowed roughly, wishing he’d never been born. Never had to experience the suffering of life. How  _ dare  _ people have children? What a cruel and selfish act.

“What are you thinking?” Nezumi asked, a little sharply.

Shion shrugged. “I guess I’m sad this is necessary.”

Nezumi squinted at him, seeming to analyze every detail of his expression. “You’re… sad. That we’re doing this?”

“No, I’m sad because we have to do this,” Shion clarified.

Nezumi stared at him blankly. “But you still want to do this, you’re not backing out?”

“No, I’m not. I mean the opposite.” Shion wasn’t sure he was explaining himself properly. “I’m certain I want to do this, I’m just…” He sighed, not sure how to better put it. “I care about the cause, so I’m sad that this is something we have to do. I wish the world was better.”

Understanding slowly dawned in Nezumi’s eyes. “I see. In that case, I agree.”

Emotion twisted in Shion’s chest. “I’m almost… no, I am. I’m glad we’re ending their lives. Because life is awful and everyone is just too scared to end it. I can’t imagine anyone enjoys being alive. It hurts, doesn’t it? All the time.” He shut his eyes tight, trying not to cry. “It’s not just me, is it? So it’s a blessing, to end someone’s life. It’s the right thing to do.”

Nezumi was quiet for a long moment, but Shion didn’t dare open his eyes to see what his reaction was. Eventually, he spoke. “You know, the Buddhists believe that all life is suffering, and that birth is the direct cause. You’re born in pain, you live in pain, and death is the end of it.”

Shion couldn’t hold back the sob that shook his chest. “Yeah.”

“So let’s look at this as zen. As a shortcut on the noble path. It’s not just you that feels this way, it’s the nature of life. We’re doing a good thing. You’re not alone.”

Suddenly, Shion knew how to finish his book. “The Massacre Sutra. That’s what I want to call it.” He snatched up his laptop and sat down on his bed, flipping it open. “It’s not a call to action, it’s the dharma of carnage. It’s the philosophical argument for why murder is not only necessary but right.” He poured words onto the page. “I can finish this tonight.”

Nezumi sat down next to him. “Perfect.” He reached out to brush Shion’s hair from his eyes. “You’re perfect.”

Happiness rolled through Shion’s shoulders and his fingers froze above the keys. He could feel himself flushing deeply, but he didn’t care. Every feeling he was supposed to breathe through overtook him and he didn’t bother to push it down.  _ Finally,  _ someone reciprocated.  _ Finally,  _ he wasn’t overly attached and annoying. His thoughts felt scrambled, but he didn’t bother to fight it. Didn’t bother to medicate it. Not that he could, not with Nezumi watching. He didn’t want to tell. He didn’t want to admit that he’d lied about not having a diagnosis. He probably should have said something earlier when Nezumi had said  _ antisocial personality disorder,  _ but it had gotten caught in his throat. He didn’t want to scare this beautiful boy away by saying back to him,  _ borderline personality disorder.  _ He didn’t want to seem broken.

“I love you,” Shion whispered, looking up from his computer screen to meet Nezumi’s eyes.

Nezumi hesitated, affect momentarily flat before he snapped out of it, responding, “I love you too.”

Shion caught his breath and leaned in quickly to kiss Nezumi gently on the lips. He was going to die in a week anyways, might as well go for it.

Life is suffering, but this was momentary respite. This was clinging together in a storm as the earth and sky shattered around them. Everything felt just in it’s right place. Everything was going to work out for the best. It was all good. They were good. Their plan was flawless and his book had an ending. Satisfying. It was all so perfect and clean and satisfying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you drink that toxic cocktail of murderous rampage, be sure to appreciate the subtleties of your newly trained terrorists mental illness. Of course, not just any mentally ill person will do. You need a potent combination of psychopathy, anxiety, and depression mixed in with every other ingredient to make it work. But when you strike it right, your friends will go absolutely crazy for this delicately balanced brew. The great thing about personality disorders is how reliable they are, when the problem is so fundamentally a part of your killers, they’re practically unshakable in their beliefs. So unlike gin, you can shake up your cocktail all you want with no fear of bruising.


	5. Neglect

As Wednesday drew closer, Nezumi and Shion became inseparable. They skipped the majority of their classes, sometimes calling in sick, sometimes just ditching without a word. It wasn’t logical, after all, to attend a class that bored you when you knew armageddon was a couple days away.

Outside behind the gym, the two were slowly working through a pack of cigarettes as they discussed their plan again and again in graphic detail, lingering over their visions of the future. Wednesday was burned into Nezumi’s mind. He could feel it on his skin, drawing closer. Soon. It made the world feel a lot more important, knowing it was about to end. It made things feel consequential.

He inhaled through his teeth, chasing a mouthful of smoke down with cool air. “Don’t you feel  _ good,  _ Shion? Don’t you feel  _ real?  _ It’s all coming together. I got my foster father’s pressure cooker. I’ll wire it up tonight, so-”

“Hello, Rat.” A familiar voice piped up from around the corner behind them.

Nezumi scowled as one of his foster siblings rounded the corner. “Dog.” How much had she heard? “What are you doing here?”

“What are  _ you  _ doing here?” Inukashi folded her arms, squinting suspiciously at him. “Planning something?”

Shion went pale. Well… paler than usual. He sounded like he was struggling not to hyperventilate as he spoke. “H-hi, who are you? I mean, your- your name, what’s your name?”

“What’s  _ your  _ name?” Inukashi shot back. “What are you two talking about?”

“None of your business, Inukashi,” Nezumi spat. “Go to class.”

_ “You  _ go to class,” Inukashi retorted.

“That’s getting old.” Nezumi frowned. “Find a better insult.”

“Find a better hiding spot!” Inukashi looked appalled. “What are you two planning? I know I heard something.”

Heard  _ something? _ Not enough to make an accusation, then. Emboldened, Nezumi stood. “Gonna go barking home to daddy? Tell him what you think you saw?”

Inukashi growled. “Not if you make it worth my while to stay quiet.”

Nezumi suppressed a smile. She didn’t know anything. “The rumors are already out there. That I’m queer. What do I care if you add to them?”

Inukashi hesitated, probably surprised Nezumi would “confirm” what was going on here. Great. “What are you talking about pressure cookers?”

Shit. She did hear something. “It’s not appropriate talk for little kids,” Nezumi improvised.

Inukashi cast a glance at Shion, who was still sitting with his back to the wall, looking incredibly guilty. “Bull, you’re planning something.”

“With the albino kid?” Nezumi scoffed. “What possibly? Look at him.” He gestured at Shion, who shrunk even smaller.

“What are you guys planning?” Inukashi asked Shion directly.

Shion just shook his head in silence.

Nezumi heaved a sigh. “I don’t need to talk to you, you paranoid freak. Leave us alone.” He sat down and made a show of wrapping his arm around Shion’s shoulders. Thankfully, Shion played into that by curling up close.

Inukashi stared at them for a long moment before pulling out her phone and snapping a picture.

Nezumi cursed under his breath.

“Alright, fine.” Inukashi shot them each one last glare and stormed off.

“Oh my god!” Shion buried his face in Nezumi’s shoulder. “Is that your brother? Are we going to get caught?”

“Foster sister. And no, I don’t think so.” He was fairly certain Inukashi would eventually take the bait. She  _ had _ taken their picture, which was… annoying.

“That was a girl?” Shion sniffed. “Huh.”

Nezumi ashed his cigarette and leaned back against the wall. “That was a bitch.”

“You did call her a dog,” Shion pointed out.

“Yes, I did.” Nezumi took a drag on his cigarette, considering their options. “I’m sure we’re fine. It’s two more days, after all.”

Shion shut his eyes, a calm look coming over his face. “Then I can breathe.”

He’d been saying that all day. Nezumi wasn’t sure what it meant, but he wasn’t about to say anything if it kept Shion calm. He was way more useful calm. “Right.” He extinguished the butt of his cigarette against the wall and pulled out another. Fuck his health, he was gonna die on Wednesday anyway. “Wednesday…” He laughed to himself as Shion curled up against him and passed the lighter. “Gonna be the best death of your life.” He watched the flame die down on the end of his cigarette, leaving a slightly uneven ring of ash around the end. He crossed his eyes slightly to watch the smoke flow out of his mouth as he spoke. “Then everyone will finally listen.” Anger scratched against his ribcage. They never listened. Not his foster parents, not his teachers, not CPS. None of them ever listened to what he had to say. They always just dismissed him as a headcase, or a stupid punk kid. They didn’t care if he was happier with his biological parents than his foster family. They didn’t care that electrons were the same size as positrons, or whether or not he was in a mental health crisis. They didn’t care what he knew, wanted, or thought. Adults are so pushy. They think they’re smarter because they’re older. They think they deserve their way all the time because they already paid their dues into the system of adolescence. What a bullshit term,  _ adolescence.  _ Just a way to make young adults feel like children. It’s infantilizing. It’s wrong. “My parents were good to me,” Nezumi spoke up suddenly, the need to talk breaking through his cool exterior. “They treated me like a person. When I said I didn’t want to go to school, they didn’t make me. They kept me home, gave me tools, and let me dismantle electronics. They let me educate myself in the library and on the internet. They were kind and intelligent.”

Shion was looking at him with wide eyes. “So, what happened?”

“They were addicts. So when some PTA bitch realized my sister and I were out of school, she called CPS to do a well-check on us. They found drugs, and we were taken away. I never got to see them again. I never got to see my sister again after she was adopted. She was just a baby, she got snatched up instantly by a yuppie couple who couldn’t have one of their own. Then I got tossed into a home run by an alcoholic and his catholic wife. Nobody even realizes when I’m gone. There’s too many of us, and they don’t really care.” Frustration stuck inside his throat. “Now I have to go to school, and it’s so slow. People are so dull, and they can’t focus on a sentence longer than their noses. They can’t see past their eyes. If life is so fucking depressing being as smart as I am, I can’t imagine how bad it must be for the morons.”

Shion twitched. “God, you’re right.”

Unexpectedly, real emotion hit Nezumi’s heart.  _ I found a good one, though,  _ he thought, surprising himself. “Spend the night with me,” he blurted out suddenly. He couldn’t bare to be separated. Not now. The very idea was painful.

Shion was silent for a terrifyingly long moment. Then, he moved all in one burst to press his lips against Nezumi’s.

It probably shouldn’t have been surprising given Shion had done that before, but whatever emotional dam in Nezumi’s soul was finally leaking wasn’t prepared for affectionate attention. A feeling he wasn’t used to mixed headily with the nicotine pounding in his skull, and he found himself speaking before he gave his mouth permission. “I… love you…?” It came out as more of a question than a statement.

“I love you too,” Shion replied, practiced at saying it.

Nezumi shook his head. That’s not the reaction he wanted. He was saying something  _ true,  _ shouldn’t Shion have a better reaction than he did to Nezumi’s lies? “No, I… I mean I  _ love  _ you. Really. I… I more than don’t hate you.”

It was Shion’s turn to look confused. “You’ve said it before.”

“But I think I really mean it now,” Nezumi said, frowning. “I feel… feelings.” He should stop talking. Why was he talking so much? He hated feeling out of control. Maybe it was all the cigarettes. They calmed his anger, but maybe he needed that anger in order to not be a babbling dumbass. He certainly felt stupid in the moment.

“You mean it  _ now?”  _ Shion was looking at him like the world was ending.

“I understand it now,” Nezumi corrected hastily. “This is bad…”

“Bad?” Shion looked slightly less hurt.

_ “Bad.  _ I’m not supposed to… I dunno, I’m not supposed to… I don’t get attached.” He pulled himself away, realizing they were still tangled up together. He couldn’t breathe. Everything felt like… a lot.

“Is it going to be a problem?” Shion looked nervous. “With the plan?”

“No, no, I still want you dead,” Nezumi assured. “Just… Until then, I-...” he couldn’t finish that sentence. It caught in his throat, stuck like a disallowed command in some piece of authoritarian programming. At least he still had  _ some  _ self-control.

Shion sighed beneath hooded lids. “So… ‘til death do us part?”

Nezumi shrugged, then nodded. There was no other way at this point. “‘Til bombs, bullets, and poison.”

 

******

 

“I more than don’t hate you.”

What? Shion frowned, confused. What was that supposed to mean? “You’ve said it before,” he reminded. Several times, actually. What was different this time?

“But I think I really mean it now. I feel feelings.” His expression looked like he was working on a complicated math problem.

The present tense hurt. “You mean it  _ now?!”  _ Shion asked, trying not to be offended. Did that mean he hadn’t meant it before? Was he just saying it to appease Shion?

“I understand it now,” Nezumi said softly.

Well, that was better. Right? Maybe he just hadn’t understood his feelings before, and now he was finally putting it together? Shion could forgive him for that. Nezumi wasn’t exactly great with his own emotions. He was  _ excellent  _ with everyone else’s, though.

“This is bad,” Nezumi shook his head.

“Bad?” Shion asked anxiously.

_ “Bad.  _ I’m not supposed to… I dunno.” He looked distraught. “I’m not supposed to- I don’t get attached.” He detangled himself from Shion’s embrace.

Oh no. Shion repressed the impulse to pull him back, to not let him go. Was he going to run away? Was he going to cut things off? Anxiety and desperation shot up Shion’s chest into his throat where he swallowed them roughly. He should just ask. Better to ask than to worry. “Is this going to be a problem with the plan?”

“No, no, I still want you dead.”

Shion relaxed a bit. It would be awful to stop what they were doing now. He’d probably just have to kill himself alone in his bedroom, and that seemed sad.

“Just… until then, I…”

Shion’s blood was set vibrating with intense emotion. He exhaled slowly, letting that sink in. Nezumi wanted him. Wanted to be with him. Constantly. Just like Shion craved, Nezumi also wanted that constant attention. “So…” He figured Nezumi had said it first, there wasn’t too much emotional danger here. “‘Til death do us part?”

Nezumi shrugged before he nodded. “‘Til bombs, bullets, and poison.”

Poison. Right, that’s how they were going to go out. “Will it hurt?” Shion asked, then wished he hadn’t. He didn’t want to seem weak or afraid.

Nezumi hesitated. “I’ve done… some chemistry. Don’t worry about it.”

That wasn’t much of an answer, but Shion didn’t want to reask the question. “Okay. Then everything is ready?”

“Just need to put together the actual bombs. Should take a few hours.” He looked Shion up and down before he stood and held out his hand to help Shion up. “Let’s ditch.”

“Okay,” Shion answered easily. He didn’t care much about school anymore, knowing it would be destroyed in a couple days. “You know, I’ve been thinking…” he mused as he stood. “Will we go to Hell for this?”

“No,” Nezumi answered him without a thought.

“I don’t think so either. I think we’re doing the right thing.” Shion was glad to know Nezumi was on the same side as him when it came to thinking of the morality of the situation. “I think the greatest good you can do is to end pain, and I think God will understand that.” They clasped hands and headed for the exit.

Nezumi raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

“Nezumi!” Inukashi’s voice called out.

“Shit,” Nezumi cursed under his breath. “What?” He spun around to glare at the boyish-looking girl who was charging up behind them.

“Where are you going?” she asked, glaring back.

“Home.” Nezumi shrugged.

“With  _ him?”  _ Inukashi pointed rudely. “You’ll get beat up.”

“No, I’ll get  _ beaten  _ up,” Nezumi corrected. “Bye.”

“Where are you really going?” Inukashi squinted suspiciously.

“Home!” Nezumi looked exasperated. “I ditch school all the time, why are you surprised?”

“You’re always alone.” Inukashi turned her glare to Shion.

“So?” Nezumi held out his hands, searching for a point. “I found a person. How can you think he’ll be a worse influence on me than I am on him?”

“I never said that!” Inukashi folded her arms. “Nobody could be a bad influence on you, you’re already the worst.”

“Well, leave us alone to be the worst, then! You don’t need to be involved.” Nezumi put his hand on Shion’s back and spun him around to start walking towards the bus stop.

“Something doesn’t smell right,” Inukashi growled. “I’m going to find out what it is.”

Anxiety clenched in Shion’s stomach, but he kept walking forwards. Just two days. Nothing bad could happen in just two days. Then, he could finally breathe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now we get to the part of the recipe where you might want to put on a podcast and relax for a bit- that’s right, it’s time to put everything in the oven and leave it alone. Neglect it, in fact. Completely abandon it and walk away, paying no attention at all to your precious homicidal maniacs while they wallow in frustration that nobody seems to give a shit about them. But don’t worry, your job is done. The wheels are in motion, now you just need to wait. The terrorists themselves will let you know when the final product is ready- and consuming it’s sure to be a blast!


	6. Codependence

Nezumi was somewhat worried about Shion walking through his neighborhood, though not quite as worried as he was about being alone with himself that night. On the bus back home, the driver gave them a strange look but said nothing. They’d been ditching frequently recently, and people were probably getting suspicious. Oh well. It wouldn’t matter pretty soon.

The bus pulled to a convenient stop only a few doors down from Nezumi’s house. He pulled Shion along behind him as quickly as possible without looking strange and drawing attention.

“Hey, Nez. Who’s the white boy?” A mocking voice called out. One of the adopted boys from the home, Chris, stepped out in front of him on the sidewalk.

“New sibling,” Nezumi said, shoving past him, annoyed.

“What, really?”

“No, dumbass.” Nezumi shot him a withering look. 

“Well, who is he, then? You don’t have friends.” Chris scanned Shion up and down.

Nezumi stepped in front of Shion, hoping he wouldn’t try to get involved. “Doesn’t matter.”

Chris grinned. “So, you’re not going to admit it?”

“Admit what?” Nezumi’s stomach dropped. No way she already-

“Inu came home early, had an interesting photo to share.” Chris folded his arms. “So, who’s the white boy? You don’t have feelings, so no way you’re really queer. What are you doing with this kid? What’s he for?”

“I have feelings,” Nezumi defended himself half-heartedly and felt stupid.

“You don’t, we had you tested,” Chris sneered, and looked at Shion. “Did you know he’s a psychopath? His brain’s broken. So’s yours though, I suppose. Faggot.”

Rage pounded in Nezumi’s veins, and he felt his thoughts clouding over to be replaced by one word repeated like a mantra in his mind:  _ satisfaction. Satisfaction. Satisfaction. _

Chris continued, not noticing the danger. “I told them not to take him in, he throws rocks at squirrels and steps on snails and frogs. I once saw him crush a butterfly in his fist, he’s so fucked up in the head, I didn’t want him here. He’s probably luring you inside to murder you. Only a matter of time, that’s what we all think.”

The muscles in Nezumi’s arm contracted before he gave his consent, and suddenly Chris was on the ground with a bloody nose.

“Shut up,” Nezumi said dully as dopamine rolled through his mind like a cloud, rewarding the violence. The desire to hurt him even more was strong, but stronger was the need to keep Shion on his side. Two more days. That’s all it would take. He could delay gratification until then. He just needed to stay cool.

Shion had other plans. He aimed a kick at Chris’ stomach and shouted, “Don’t talk to him that way!”

Chris gaped, unable to gasp for breath as he shuddered silently in pain.

Nezumi raised an eyebrow at Shion. “That was unexpected.”

Shion was shaking, glaring at Chris. “I hate it when people insult those I care about.” He clenched his fists. “Get out of here or I’ll do it again.”

Chris nodded, finally managing to draw breath. “You’re both crazy!” he whimpered, crawling away.

Before Nezumi realized what was going on, Shion had him wrapped in a tight embrace. “That felt good.”

Nezumi shut down, unable to comprehend everything that was going on around him. Shion hugged him. Out of the blue. He hadn’t seen it coming, and that was terrifying. Last time Shion had touched him unexpectedly, Nezumi had nearly ripped his arm off. What was happening to his reflexes?

“Okay,” Nezumi said stiffly. It was probably fine. Beating up Chris probably gave Shion enough street cred to do this. In case anyone was watching. Snapping out of it, he remembered he was supposed to be acting. He’d let himself go expressionless. Shit, what was happening to him? He smiled, prying Shion off him gently. “Just imagine how much better it’s going to feel on Wednesday.”

“Ah, I can’t even picture- oh, your hand!” Shion picked up Nezumi’s bruising fist, concerned. “He hurt you. I hate him.”

Nezumi grinned, letting Shion inspect his knuckles. “I think we hurt him worse.” Chris had finally disappeared around the corner, probably off to find his mommy to nurse his wounds. “He wanted to get hit, you know,” Nezumi explained. “He does it so he can play the victim and get me in trouble.”

Shion shut his eyes and let go of Nezumi’s hand, shaking again. “Let’s kill him.”

Nezumi burst out laughing. “Geez, calm down. Save the rage for Wednesday.” He put a hand on Shion’s back and guided him towards the house. “We have work to do now.”

Shion’s eyes looked out of focus. “I want to kill your brother. He’s worthless and he hurt you.” He stumbled a bit, not seeming quite able to walk in a straight line.

Nezumi steered him back onto the sidewalk and helped him turn the corner to face his house. “Calm down. It’s fine. We’re fine. I’m fine. Just… breathe.” A twinge of concern for the kid spiked in his chest, where he beat it down quickly. What the hell was happening?

“Not until Wednesday,” Shion muttered. “I can’t breathe until then.”

“Okay… but keep that talk quiet once we get inside, okay?” Nezumi looked over at the porch, where both his foster parents stood drinking glasses of something alcoholic.

“Did you hit Christopher?” His foster mother asked.

“No. He’s a liar.” Nezumi scowled.

“Who’s you?” His foster father pointed at Shion.

“Jesus, how drunk are you?” Nezumi pulled Shion along onto the porch, hoping to just breeze by them.

“You look like my son.” The old drunkard squinted at Shion emotionally.

Shion’s expression was still dead.

“He’s dead already. Cancer. You look like him.” The old man sniffed.

“Let’s go inside,” Nezumi muttered, pulling Shion through the door roughly.

“You look like him!” The old man managed to shout before Nezumi shut the door.

Inside it was fairly quiet. Most everyone was at school. Only Chris and apparently Inukashi seemed to be at home. Nezumi directed Shion towards the stairs and the two climbed quickly up to his bedroom.

The beds all had curtains around them, so Nezumi couldn’t be as certain as he’d like that nobody was home. Sometimes people were sleeping, or just stayed quiet. Nezumi held a finger to his lips and pointed at his bed. He pulled back the curtains to reveal a camera pointing out at them. There was also a thin string between the curtains that hadn’t been broken, so nobody must have been in his bed. He switched off the camera and flipped over his blankets. Underneath, two rifles lay parallel, looking deadly.

Shion gasped. “That’s-”

“Shh,” Nezumi warned. “Who knows who’s here.” He wrapped the rifles in his blankets and put them concealed on the floor. Then, he flipped his mattress. Below, boxes and magazines of ammunition lay flat amongst handguns and tangles of wires.

Shion attached himself to Nezumi’s side like a lichen to a rock. “You did it.”

“Mhm. It was easy.” It really was. The rifles and ammo came from his foster father’s gun closet- he was a gun hoarder, he wouldn’t notice two. The handguns came from a gun show and from some people he knew.

Shion nuzzled into the side of Nezumi’s neck. “Good job.”

“Mhm. Let’s go build things.” Nezumi pulled away to flip the mattress back over and hide the rifles beneath the blankets. He set back the camera and closed the curtains. “Come on.”

Shion had a strange expression Nezumi couldn’t quite place. “Okay.”

Shrugging it off, Nezumi directed Shion back downstairs to the kitchen. In the cupboard of shit nobody used anymore, he had stored away two pressure cookers. They checked around the corners to make sure nobody was following them before opening the cupboard.

“What. The fuck.” Nezumi gaped at the empty cupboard. “What the fuck! Everything was here this morning, I don’t understand.”

“Looking for something?” Inukashi appeared behind them. “Your reflexes are slipping,” she laughed as Nezumi lunged for her and missed. “So, you’re building a bomb, aren’t you?”

“No!” Nezumi insisted, scowling.

“Oh my God…” Shion looked ill.

“We’re not doing  _ anything.  _ What did you do with the stuff in the cupboard?” Nezumi clenched his fists, trying not to lose control.

“You’re going to shoot up the school,” Inukashi accused. “I know you are.”

“You’re crazy,” Nezumi said, eyes narrowed. This was not at all going as planned.

“What day? I might just skip.”

“That’s insane, we’re not going to shoot up the school.” Nezumi folded his arms, struggling to keep his expression in place.

“Yes you are. That’s why I volunteered to clean out the junk closet.”

Nezumi felt cornered. He didn’t know what to say. She knew. She knew  _ everything.  _ What should his next action be? Kill her? Deny it some more? Run away?

“We’re running away,” Shion seemed to read his thoughts. “From home. We were going to steal some stuff from the junk closet and take off. We’re not killing anyone. We don’t care about them enough to do that.”

Inukashi hesitated. “Running away?”

“Yeah,” Shion continued. “Why do you think we’re out of school? You’re kinda messing up our plans.”

“Why do you care about the pressure cookers?” Inukashi scowled.

“Look around!” Shion gestured at the sparse kitchen. “What else of value is there to pawn?”

Nezumi was stunned. That was a really decent lie. Why hadn’t he thought of it? Frustrating.

“And now we don’t have enough cash to leave today.” Shion huffed pretty convincingly. “So what are we going to do?” He looked at Nezumi pleadingly.

Slowly, an idea formed. A really horrible, war-crime level idea. Nezumi smiled. “You’re going to help us break into the medicine cabinet.” He nodded at Inukashi. “And were going to steal all the drugs. That should be enough to get by. Don’t you think, Shion?”

Shion nodded slowly. “Yeah…”

“I know exactly what to do.” His fingers tingled with anticipation. This was a good idea. A really fucked up, amazing idea.

Oh boy.

 

******

 

Inukashi could pick locks. Better than Nezumi, it seemed, because he insisted Inukashi do it. Shion followed mutely behind the two of them, still buzzing from the lie he’d told. It had made Nezumi smile. That probably meant he was proud. Shion was proud of himself for that.

“I hope you both get capped by a gangster,” Inukashi spat after cracking the lock. She dashed away on silent feet, leaving the two boys alone with the overstocked medicine cabinet.

“Excellent lie,” Nezumi purred, kissing Shion swiftly on the cheek.

Shion’s entire body lit up. “Thank you.” He frowned. “What are we going to do with all this?” He watched as Nezumi scanned the labels of things and stuffed his pockets with handfuls of pills.

“Since we can’t build… you know,” Nezumi said carefully. “We need another way to make sure we can get everyone possible. The idea was to…” He nodded pointedly “-the cafeteria, then pick off the rest as they ran to the exits. Now we can’t do that. So we need to make our targets a little… slower. Also-” Nezumi sighed, pausing his feverish pill-grabbing. “They’re going to check this cabinet tonight. They always do. So…” He smiled sweetly at Shion. “How do you feel about breathing a little sooner? Say…” He pulled Shion close. “Tomorrow?”

Distracted by the affection, Shion nodded before he really thought about it. “Tomorrow… Tomorrow?” He blinked, realizing what that meant. “Oh wow. Oh…” He choked around the emotion flooding his bloodstream. He needed to breathe. Everything was pounding against the inside of his skull. He was desperate to breathe. “Yeah. Tomorrow.”

“So here’s what we’re going to do,” Nezumi’s tone changed  instantly, and he lowered his voice. “We’re going to go camp in the forest behind the school, and when we have the opportunity, spike all the lunch food with opiates. Those who don’t overdose will be slow enough to pick off one by one.”

“Okay.” Shion sighed as Nezumi pulled away from him. “What about us?”

Nezumi’s eyes lit up. “Chemistry.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope. Inside were four small capsules, two red and two green. “Green is first. Take it just as we get started. An hour later, take the red one. That will overdose you. You’ll die about fifteen to twenty minutes after you take it. Don’t get shot in the meantime.”

Shion gazed hungrily at the capsules. “Green for go, red for stop.”

“Exactly.” Nezumi reached out to stroke Shion’s hair. “You got it.”

Shion melted at the touch. He stepped into Nezumi’s arms, curling up tight. “You’re so smart.”

“I know.” Nezumi sighed. “Let’s get out of here before we’re caught.”

They closed the medicine cabinet, locked it, and scampered away back to Nezumi’s bedroom.

“We’ll leave before dinner,” Nezumi informed him. “While everyone's still upstairs, before they realize we stole their stash.”

“Okay.” Shion pulled himself close to Nezumi’s side, where he was ignored yet again. What stronger signal could he send? He was getting frustrated. “What should we do in the meantime?”

“We need to pulverize these pills.” Nezumi detached himself from Shion and sat down on the bed. He unwrapped the scarf from his neck and tied it around his face. “Don’t breathe it in.” He took a book out of his backpack and crushed a couple pills against it using the butt of his knife.

Shion tried not to sigh as he sat down and pulled the curtains around them.

Soon, they had a jar full of off-white powder. Nezumi flexed his opiate-coated fingers and hummed curiously. “My arms should be sore from this, but they aren’t.” He pulled the mask off his face and grinned.

“Go wash your hands,” Shion commanded.

“Yeah.” Nezumi didn’t move. He just stared at his hands with an odd smile that worried Shion.

“Go wash your hands right now.” Shion grabbed him by the elbow and pulled him to his feet, dragging him along to the bathroom where he shoved Nezumi’s hands under the faucet and turned it on.

“Didn’t think it was fentanyl based, any of it. Shit.” Nezumi blinked blearily at his clean hands. “Whoops. Don’t do drugs, kids. Good for us, though.”

“Alright…” Shion shook his head, guiding him back to the bedroom. “When do you want to leave?”

Nezumi closed his eyes. “Whenever they-”

The door opened downstairs, letting in a rush of noise.

“Now.” Nezumi opened his eyes, looking shocked. “Hurry.” They flipped his mattress, stuffing everything in their backpacks. Nezumi fished a couple jackets from a closet and tossed on to Shion. “Hide your rifle.”

Armed to the teeth and inadvertently doped up, Nezumi looked the happiest Shion had ever seen him. “Follow me.”

Shion nodded, bouncing along behind Nezumi as they marched down the stairs, shoving past various siblings. Getting out the front door was as easy as ditching school. Nobody noticed. Nobody said a thing. They marched down the street to the bus stop, Shion happy he had someone to lead the way. He’d never have known what to do. This whole thing was his idea, but he would never have managed to plan it all out the way Nezumi had. They needed each other. Shion smiled to himself, liking the way that sounded. They needed each other.

Shion couldn’t take his eyes off Nezumi as they sat on the bus. He was so euphorically happy. Everything was coming together. He had someone who loved him, they had a plan to change the world together, and he was going to die tomorrow. That scratched all of Shion’s psychological itches. He leaned his head against Nezumi’s shoulder and closed his eyes. Tomorrow. Then he could breathe.

Tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before consuming your newly constructed terrorist cocktail, take a moment to appreciate the way the diverse flavors blend together in a truly intoxicating way. Each supports and needs the other in order to make a really explosive combination. Of course, if no explosion is to occur, you can always pick your favorite poison to add an extra kick. A shot of something or other is an excellent companion to your main blend. Of course, there will be plenty shots once the brew is done.


	7. Rebellion

They didn’t sleep that night. There was too much at stake, too much excitement just around the corner. The night was warm, which was nice. They laid out under the stars, heads on their backpacks, watching the moon travel across the sky. It was a beautiful last night, and Nezumi was actually glad he wasn’t alone. It was nice to have someone to talk to, someone who listened with the reverence that Shion did. And what made it all the more unique was that there was no danger. He could say anything he wanted, and he knew nothing would scare Shion away. He talked about his family, what he could remember of them. He talked about his life in foster care, his time in juvenile detention, that time they’d locked him in a psych ward… everything he’d kept close to his chest.

Shion talked about his father, how he’d run out when Shion was just a baby and what it had done to his mother. How she’d fallen into depression and alcoholism because of it. He talked about how she wasn’t a bad mother, she’d just been mentally absent. How he wasn’t bitter about his life, but bitter about life in general.

Their conversations spun to philosophy as the sun rose over the school, and it began to sink in what they were about to do.

“Last day on Earth, Shion. Can you breathe yet?” Nezumi asked, staring out over the campus.

“Not yet.” Shion took his hand. “Not until I stop.”

“Are you ready to die?” Nezumi asked, shoving down the twinge of something odd in his heart.

“Completely. You?”

“I’ve been dead for years. Today I feel alive,” Nezumi replied, surprising himself. He squeezed Shion’s hand. Just because he wanted to. He wanted to. That was strange. He didn’t want to let go. This new love feeling was confusing.

Students would be waking up, getting dressed, and waiting for the bus. They would be eating breakfast, saying goodbye to their parents, and rushing to finish their homework.

And they would be getting a bomb threat to their emails.

Nezumi checked his phone and swore. “No way! She didn’t, that bitch!” He ran his fingers through his hair, scanning the message from the principal of the school.

“What is it?” Shion asked nervously.

“Someone called in a bomb threat. Must have been Inu. Nobody’s going to show up!” He seethed with anger.

Shion, on the other hand, looked calm. “Or rather…” He was reading the message on his own phone. “Only the real idiots will show up. Look.” He pointed at his screen. “It says it’s just a warning. They’re not shutting down the school.”

Nezumi nodded distractedly. “How many, do you think? How many will stay home?”

“I don’t know.”

Nezumi wanted to punch something. He wished there was a person around he could hit. “This sucks!”

“Yeah, maybe…” Shion knelt down to fish through his backpack. He pulled out a copy of the book he’d written. “Or maybe this just means there will be less innocent casualties.” He opened the book to the back page. “Let’s claim it.”

“Claim it?” Nezumi looked at him, perplexed.

“Claim the bomb threat. Let’s say we did it to make a point about bad parenting. That any parent who would let their kid go to school during a bomb threat deserves to lose their child.” He smiled like he was actually happy about this.

Nezumi thought about it, and nodded. “That would incriminate Inu.” He smiled too. “Let’s do it.”

Shion held up a pen and sat down to write. His hand flew rapidly across the page, scribbling down the final words of their manifesto. By the time he was done copying it into each print of the book, and typing it into the online format, the sun was fully in the sky. Any moment, students would be arriving for school. At 9 am, first period started. That meant the cooks were beginning to prepare for lunch, which would be at 12. Nezumi and Shion made their way to the library along with everyone else, and sat down at a table in the back.

“At 11:30, all the cooks get a break,” Nezumi explained softly. “We can sneak into the kitchen and lace the food then. We’ll need to be in and out as quickly as possible.” He watched the clock tick forwards slowly. “Then take the green pill at twelve, and everything’s go.”

Shion nodded, a deep flush in his cheeks. “Green for go, red for stop.”

Nezumi handed him his two capsules. “Right. Then you can breathe.”

“Then I can breathe.” Shion closed his eyes and sighed. “I wish time went faster.”

“You won’t once we get started,” Nezumi said with a smile. “It’ll feel so good you’ll never want to stop.”

The ultimate satisfaction. Like smashing chinaware against the ground. Like screaming at the top of your lungs. Like punching someone in the face.  _ Satisfying.  _ Dopamine was already humming in Nezumi’s veins and they hadn’t even started yet. The rifle concealed under his jacket felt better against his skin than the touch of any person ever had.

11:30 came sooner than expected. Nezumi stood up from his seat awkwardly, adrenaline was throwing him a little off balance.

Shion’s eyes were round like pinwheels and glazed over to the point of stupor. He grabbed on tight to Nezumi, his hands shaking violently. “T-time,” he stuttered.

“Mhm. Ready?” Nezumi’s stomach was in knots. Anticipation. Like Christmas. Like a birthday. But better. So much better. Because this time he was actually going to get what he wanted.

“P-please…” Shion blinked, and tears rolled down his cheeks.

Nezumi’s heart flipped over. “What’s wrong?”

Shion’s mouth hung open dully. “Hurry. I can’t wait any longer.”

Nezumi nodded, a slow smile spreading across his face. It was happening. They were actually doing it.

The cafeteria was empty but for the workers who sat around a table in the corner, eating lunch. Nezumi knew a backway in they wouldn’t notice. It was way easier than it should have been. That was the funny thing, how  _ easy  _ all of this was. Painfully easy.

The jar of white powder that had made his limbs numb just by touching it shone deadly in the fluorescent light. Around them, platters full of meatloaf, vats of applesauce, and pots of pudding were being kept warm and cool respectively under lights and below refrigeration vents. Nezumi’s eye was drawn to something in the corner, though. “Oh, that’s a great idea,” he commended himself aloud.

“What is?”

A tub of a deceptively similar-looking white powder sat in the corner. “MSG.” Nezumi opened up the tub and snatched a cup off a shelf, scooping out a large serving. “Now nobody will taste anything off.”

The potent combination of MSG and crushed opiates looked beautiful sprinkled on top of the food. Like snow. Maybe it really was Christmas. But it couldn’t remain that way, unfortunately. Too conspicuous. Nezumi mixed everything in while Shion clung to the hem of his shirt, rounded eyes gazing manically at everything.

“Let’s get out of here,” Nezumi said, looking at his handiwork with pride. Nothing looked amiss.

Shion nodded, sticking two fingers in his mouth like a baby.

The exited through the back, stepping outside into the sunlight for the last time in their lives.

 

******

 

Shion watched Nezumi work, mixing and measuring powders like a mad scientist. Shion supposed that’s sort of what he was. It was truly a sight to behold. Knowing that overdose alone would kill so many, this is where the massacre officially began. It made Shion’s skin feel tingly.

He couldn’t feel his heartbeat as he absentmindedly grabbed onto the hem of Nezumi’s shirt. He couldn’t feel himself breathing. He knew logically that he must be, but somewhere in the back of his mind he wondered if he was already a ghost.

Maybe he had died long ago. Maybe Nezumi had killed him the day they met. Maybe that was the real day of the shooting and his spirit was still wandering the school with unfinished business. Maybe doing what they were about to do would set him free.

“Am I dead?” he whispered. Nezumi didn’t seem to hear him. Maybe he was too wrapped up in his work, maybe he couldn’t be reached by Shion’s ghostly voice.

“Let’s get out of here.” Nezumi’s eyes were wide. Shion could see the whites of his eyes surrounding the ring of grey that encompassed his pinpoint pupils as he grinned, looking absolutely hysterical.

Shion couldn’t feel his blood move. Dazed, he stuck his fingers in his mouth like he’d done as a child until he was far too old for such things. He nodded slowly, growing more and more convinced he was already dead. He couldn’t feel his thoughts occur.

Outside, the sun hit his cheekbones in a way his mother had been so paranoid about. Sunscreen, always. Even during winter. He didn’t have any melanin to protect himself. Now, though, it didn’t matter. This was the last time he’d ever see his old enemy, the sun. He waved at it, squinting at the sky. “I had to only play outside at night. Maybe I was always a ghost. Maybe I’m going backwards. Maybe everything is running backwards. Maybe I’m about to be born, because I think I’ve been dead this whole time.”

Nezumi was staring at him vacantly.

“Maybe you don’t see me,” Shion continued. “Nobody ever seems to get as attached as I do, maybe nobody can see me. Nobody’s ever been able to see me.” He hummed to himself as he looked around at the outside world. It seemed off. Shiny. Like there was one extra color in the mix that Shion couldn’t quite place. “It’s beautiful out here. Maybe once I’m born I’ll forget how horrible it is to be dead.”

“Hey,” Nezumi’s voice cut through the fog in Shion’s ears. “We have to get the books to the principal’s office. Come on.”

That didn’t make any sense. What were books? Shion had a vague, rectangular image in his head. It didn’t quite line up with anything in his realm of understanding. Understanding… Nothing seemed to make sense. He could see the numbers of the universe, and everything they formed was absurdity. Principal’s office… What did that mean? What was space, even? Three dimensions wasn’t enough to move in. Shion couldn’t fathom anywhere but where he was, therefore the principal’s office couldn’t exist.

“It’s okay, though, because nobody understands anything,” Shion announced. “Nobody understands anything about the world, so it’s fine what’s happening.” He couldn’t tell the difference between himself and the air around him. “How I’m even talking is a mystery. There’s very little difference between what barely seems distinct from isotopes of hydrogen. Positive charges, I guess.”

“What are you talking about?” Nezumi frowned at him, concerned. “Did you already take the red pill?”

“No,” Shion said, absolutely certain of that. Green and red were just about the only things he understood anymore. He was certain he hadn’t yet taken the red pill. “It’s okay, nobody understands anything about anything. Humans aren’t built that way.”

“Are you on fucking acid or something? What the fuck? You sound psychotic.”

_ Psychotic.  _ Shion gasped, snapping out of it. “No. I’m fine. Sorry, let’s go.” He felt his cheeks flush.

“What was that?” Nezumi looked bewildered.

“Um…” Shion searched frantically for a lie before realizing that was pointless. “Yeah. Psychotic.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Shion faced the ground, embarrassed.

Nezumi laughed. “The two of us are gonna set back NAMI’s movement by about a decade… Mentally ill people aren’t dangerous… Lots of dangerous people are mentally ill, though! We shouldn’t be allowed to buy guns… I love this country.” He leaned against the wall of the school, laughing until he was out of breath.

Shion didn’t think it was funny. “I’m fine now… Let’s go.”

“Alright.” Nezumi wiped his eyes and pushed himself away from the wall. “This is my favorite day…” He took Shion’s hand and lead him around the side of the building. In through the front door, and right around the corner to the principal’s office.

She looked up at the two of them. “Can I help you?”

Shion blinked, unable to think of words. It was like his entire vocabulary had been deleted.

Nezumi, on the other hand, seemed perfectly confident. He bowed his head slightly, affecting a nervous demeanor. “I… I guess I was wondering about the bomb threat? I heard there was a problem, should we be in school?”

The principal nodded. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Very few people seem to have stayed home today. It’s probably just someone pulling a prank. Is that what you’re here for?”

Nezumi handed her a copy of the book with a stunning lack of anxiety. It said  _ Massacre Sutra  _ right on the cover. “I had this book. It’s about mass murders. I thought… I dunno, I already read it. It had me concerned.”

She turned the book over in her hands. Shion struggled not to hyperventilate. If she opened the back cover she would see the note he’d written claiming the bomb threat. It would all be over.

“You can keep it. Thanks for putting my mind at ease.” He took Shion’s hand and headed for the door.

“Wait,” the principal called after them.

Shion froze.

“What class are you two supposed to be in?”

“We have a free period. We’re seniors,” Nezumi lied easily. “Free period is great, but it gave my mind time to wander, I suppose. Started thinking about the bomb threat. Thanks for the advice.” He waved at her and squeezed Shion’s hand gently.

“Of course.”

They walked out of the principal’s office.

Nezumi closed his eyes, a peaceful look coming over his face. “Okay,” he said, sticking his hand in his pocket and pulling out a green pill. “Go time.” He popped the capsule in his mouth before handing Shion his.

Shakily, Shion took the offered poison and exhaled slowly. He pulled the water bottle out of his backpack and struggled to open it. When he finally did crack the seal, some of it spilled out onto the floor.

Nezumi held out his own bottle, and they tapped them together solemnly before simultaneously raising the bottles to their mouths.

And together, they committed suicide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To make certain your cocktail will be absolutely killer, be sure nobody watches you make it. Any adult supervision should seem perfunctory, and be functionally worthless when it comes to stopping actual problems. The best situation in which to make your deadly brew is an environment of apathetic fascism. This way, rebellion is built and easily expressed.


	8. Fury

It was a potent cocktail that Nezumi had brewed. Five minutes passed, and his fingers started getting cold. He checked the time- 12:07. Great. Perfect. He felt like an action hero walking to the cafeteria. Or rather, a supervillain. Powerful, either way. Shion was trailing behind to his right, the perfect little follower. Nezumi lit a cigarette as he walked through the halls of the school, shaking with adrenaline. The green capsule was beginning to kick in, as evidenced by Shion’s short gasp and muttered  _ whoa.  _ Indeed, everything looked particularly beautiful. Light struck the dingy corners of the school in a way that hit Nezumi’s brain just right. Like he was seeing it for the first time. Like he was seeing anything for the first time. This must be what it’s like to be newborn.

By the time they reached the cafeteria, a chain of teachers were chasing behind them, shouting for him to put out his cigarette and report to the principal. Nezumi was grinning broader than he could ever remember doing. He felt  _ amazing.  _ Simply amazing.

“Young man, put that out right now and come with me!” His science teacher grabbed him by the elbow. “Do you know how bad that is for your health?”

Nezumi howled with laughter as he stood outside the door to the cafeteria, where commotion was already audible. “Know what’s worse for your health?” He turned around to face her.

She blinked, clearly confused. “What?”

“This.”

_ Bang. _

Screams like sirens erupted around him as dopamine rocketed through Nezumi’s veins. “Ngh,” he groaned, popping his neck as his entire body shuddered with relief. He looked at the stunned expression on his science teacher. “Don’t tell me what to do.” He flicked his cigarette at her.

_ Pop pop pop. _

They all stood, staring at him in confusion like the morons they were. He didn’t stop to watch them fall. He had business to attend to, and the green pill was reaching its peak.

Inside the cafeteria, students were slumped over their trays. Some were stumbling around aimlessly, searching for an answer their drugged, stupid brains couldn’t even find the question for.

“Hey everybody!” Nezumi ran to the center of the room and leapt on top of a table, brandishing his rifle proudly. “Recognize me? Probably not, right? I’m never in school, am I? Well, guess what? Now I’m the host of this cafeteria’s most popular game show!” He bent over at the waist, screaming with hysterical humor. “You!” The smile melted off his face as he pointed to a girl in a blue shirt. “Our first contestant!”

“What?” She was shaking like a leaf.

Nezumi growled, annoyed at everyone. He pointed the rifle in the air and fired, and everyone screamed. “Quiet down!” He fired the rifle again, and everyone cowered. “We’re playing the game  _ I  _ want to play this time!” He scanned the crowds as his vision shifted sickeningly. They were watching him, weren’t they? Like good little game show viewers. And he was standing on a stage, addressing his enthusiastic audience.

“Our first contestant,” Nezumi called out, gesturing towards the girl in blue. “Now tell me dear, how do you like school?”

She smiled, clearly nervous to be on TV. First timers were always so cute. “I… I like it…” She was crying. Poor thing must have terrible stage fright.

“Are your classes challenging? Are they difficult?” He held out the microphone for her to speak into.

She twitched at the microphone in her face. “Y-yeah.”

“Oooh…” Nezumi smiled sympathetically. “I’m afraid that’s the wrong answer.”

The audience cheered as the  _ you’re out  _ sound effect played and the girl in blue fell to the ground instantly in a burst of red confetti.

“Who’s next?” Nezumi pointed the microphone around the audience. Nobody seemed enthusiastic about it. Ah well. He’d just have to pick at random, then. “You! Young man in the anime t-shirt! Stand up!”

The kid shot to his feet. Good, someone happy to play.

“How do you like school?”

“I h-hate it?” he stuttered.

“How come?” Nezumi cocked his head at the boy.

“Iiiit’s… t-too hard?”

“Wrong!” Nezumi shouted. The sound effect played, and the boy dropped to the ground in a burst of confetti. “Who’s next? Who wants to try?” He picked a girl out of the crowd. “You?”

“School sucks!” She screeched back the second the microphone was in her face.

“Why?”

“It’s full of psychos!”

Nezumi laughed. That was certainly true. There were some really fucked up people in the school. “Right answer! Ding ding ding, we have a winner!” He turned to Shion, grinning. “What does she win, Shion?”

“The best prize of all,” Shion said breathlessly.

The girl collapsed in another large burst of confetti as fireworks went off everywhere.

_ “Why is everyone dying?!”  _ A girl screamed out.  _ “What have you done to us?” _

Blind rage. “That’s not how you play the game!” Nezumi glared at her, fire eating his soul. “I’m doing a bit, you’re supposed to ‘ _ yes, and’  _ to it!” He hated it when people ruined his fun, so he shot her.

The walls of the TV studio melted away from his imagination. Whatever. There was barely anyone left conscious to play with, anyways.

“Now I have to make up a new game.” He glared at the survivors. “How about hide and seek?”

The few who were left whimpered.

“I’ll be seeker!” He reached into his backpack and pulled out a handgun. Someone cried. Nezumi laughed. “So you better run! Let’s  _ play!” _

Everyone bolted for the door.

Nezumi’s shoulders relaxed, and he turned to Shion. “Time to say goodbye.”

Shion nodded, tears streaming down his face. “I’m going to the gym.”

“And I’m going to the library. Time to go find our classmates.”  _ Time for the real hunt to begin.  _ “Good luck.”

“You too.” Shion’s wide, tearful eyes were fixed on Nezumi’s own. “Thank you.”

Emotion caught in Nezumi’s throat. He couldn’t speak, so he nodded quietly. Shion seemed to understand what he meant. One last touch of the fingers, and they parted ways. It stung a bit, like squeezing an ice cube in your fist, watching Shion leave. But it was bittersweet, because parted they would be working towards the same goal, and accomplish it with a greater degree of success than they would sticking together. It was good. Nezumi was happy.

He made his way to the library while sirens wailed. Not too much longer and the SWAT teams would be pouring in. No time to waste. Nezumi broke into a run.

 

******

 

Everything was beautiful. The school seemed like a shell on the beach; empty and meaningless without the life inside, but beautiful all the same. Like a collector, Shion approached the gym. That’s where all the best shells would be. He just needed to get the ugly sea snails out of them, and then they would be pure and perfect. The sand beneath his feet shifted, making him feel a little off balance and heavy. Through the doors and into the gym where people were huddled, he walked sluggishly as the sirens blared around him.

Shells everywhere. Like spraying pesticide, they cracked and emptied. Peaceful. He felt peaceful. Letting them all go up to heaven where things would be better. So much better. And he was their guardian angel, helping them along the way.

Life is bad. There is only crushing pain and sadness and lack of meaning. There is only depression and anxiety and devastation. There are always people leaving, and always people doing wrong things that hurt.

In his life, Shion had never known happiness. It was a foreign concept, and his closest approximation of what happiness could be was the lack of sadness he felt with Nezumi. This peace he felt collecting shells, helping his classmates. Maybe happiness was a lie. Shion couldn’t fathom it, and how could anybody else? His mother had always told him that happiness was out there. That he’d find it someday. Well, maybe this was it. This was the only moment of happiness he’d have in his life.

He was sick of feeling, and he was tired of being sick. His tumultuous emotions were deafening to his ears, and he wanted them to finally stop. The world owed him that much, didn’t it? It owed him one tiny second of peace.

The ocean roared in his ears, high pitched and devastated. The red sand below his feet was wet and slippery, and the breeze was cold and whipped his eyes until they were full of tears. But he was happy. Because he was finally doing something meaningful. Something that brought him closer to God, something that helped others.

Human bodies without their souls were beautiful. Like a porcelain doll, like the final note of a well-composed song. They lay still; happy at last, Shion could tell. They were finally free from the horrors of living. They were finally able to be at rest, unthinking and unfeeling.

Shion dropped his guns and backpack, staring around at the tableau with a euphoric feeling charging through his veins. He could hear the SWAT team break in through the front door of the school. They would be looking for him. He should take the red pill now.

Time to stop. Time to breathe. Time to  _ finally  _ breathe.

“Thank God this life is over,” he whispered to himself before swallowing the poison.

The door exploded behind him.

“Get on the ground! Get on the ground!” a rough voice shouted at him.

Shion instinctively did as he was told.

“Who did this? Where did they go?” the SWAT man asked.

Shion smiled lightly. “I did.”

“Jesus Christ.”

A whispered prayer, and his hands were cuffed tightly behind his back.

“Too late,” Shion told them as they pulled him to his feet. “We’re already dead.”

“We? Who’s we?”

Tears flowed freely down Shion’s face as he was dragged along into the halls of the school. “The love of my life.”

A radio keyed and someone spoke. “There’s another one somewhere, possibly his girlfriend. They’re working together. Find her.”

“Roger.”

Walking along the beach with this police escort. It was nice to have people with him. To have friends. “It’s such a lovely day,” Shion whispered. “Maybe a bit chilly.” He was drenched in sweat. Head to toe, like he’d just jumped in a pool. Maybe he’d been swimming in the ocean. Things were getting a little fuzzy.

“Oh dear God, someone bring Narcan.” A voice over the radio spoke. “Lots of it!”

_ “What did you do?”  _ Someone shook him roughly.

“How many are dead?” Shion asked, ignoring the question.

“Tell me what you did to them!”

“Read him his rights, Bill.”

Shion shrugged. “Too late. I’m already dead.” As he said it, a rush of feeling overtook his body. Like every chemical his brain had been missing came back at once. A rush of serotonin so strong it blacked out his vision. What kind of Chemistry had Nezumi done? It felt good. Feverish, but good. What a kind and compassionate person he was. Shion sobbed with love. He was making Shion’s death so lovely, what a genuinely good person.

His fingers tingled with electricity, and his brain flashed signals that his entire body was in shut down mode.

“Stand the fuck up!” Someone shouted.

Shion gasped, feeling the seizure overtake him. “Ten,” he inhaled deeply, barely feeling the heart attack.

“What?”

“Nine,” he exhaled slowly as his whole body started shaking.

“What are you doing?” Someone smacked him across the face, but Shion didn’t feel it.

“Eight.” Inhale. He was outside again, news cameras flashing in his face. “Seven.” And there was the love of his life, who he thought he’d never see again. How good to die in his presence. The world was so lovely. “Six.” Out here in the sun, with the entire world paying attention to what he had to say. Perfection.

“What are you counting down to? Someone call a bomb squad, evacuate the area.”

“This is sick.”

“Five.” Five more seconds to live, and Shion was finally breathing. Nezumi was looking at him with absolute adoration, covered in blood and so very happy. “Four.” He could feel himself blacking out. “Three.” His soul was brimming with joy. “Two.” He struggled to keep his eyes open as he watched Nezumi’s beautiful features shine out a message of love. “One.” Seizure overwhelmed him, and everything became nothing.

 

******

 

“Eight.” Shion said as he was dragged off towards a cop car. Nezumi watched, sadness beyond anything gripping his heart. What a beautiful boy. What a waste of a life. What a perfect, kind, loving person. 

Maybe this is what remorse felt like.

Serotonin syndrome was rattling his brain as the drugs kicked in. As far as deaths went, it wasn’t too horrible. Better than being shot in the chest, but worse than being shot in the brain.

“Seven.”

“Shion, I love you!” Nezumi called out, not caring anymore. He doubted Shion could hear him. He was so out of it.

“Six.”

Was he counting down to his own death? Nezumi sobbed as Shion made determined eye contact. “Someone help him…” He felt no regret for what they’d done inside, but seeing this was too much. He was keeping his eyes open. He was so brave, so smart… Nezumi knew it was just the drugs making him think this way, because the dopamine of murder was still screaming satisfaction through every neuron.

“What are you counting down to?” someone shouted at Shion.

“This is sick,” someone else cried.

“Five.” His words were a little slurred, and his lips were blue. He was shaking with seizure, making it difficult for the SWAT people to hold onto him. He was probably in cardiac arrest. “Four.” His head drooped, and the SWAT team laid him out on the ground, guns pointed at his chest.

“Somebody help him…” Nezumi said again, uselessly. His own police escort was shoving him in the back of a cop car.

Shion didn’t speak again. Nezumi hadn’t expected it to hit him so strong. Was he already on antidepressants? It shouldn’t have been so extreme. He had said he wasn’t diagnosed with anything, had he been lying? The drugs in Nezumi’s bloodstream were kicking in more slowly, making him feel sleepy and flu-like. He should pass out before he died. He’d been very careful to assure that. He’d even taken height and weight into account, so the only explanation for Shion was synergy with SSRIs. How horrible. At least the green pill probably helped things make less sense to him. Maybe he was hallucinating. Hopefully he’d still managed to kill as many as possible.

Nezumi shook himself as the door to the cop car was slammed shut. He shouldn’t be worried about Shion. He should be enjoying the final few seconds of his own life. He let the dopamine consume him, replaying the images of what he’d done over and over in his head. Lovely. Satisfying. Perfect.

Still, Shion sat with him in the back of the paddywagon as he blacked out. He held his hand as the light drained from Nezumi’s eyes and the cops in the front shouted obscenities and debated what to do. Love, that new feeling he’d discovered, lulled him to sleep as the world turned cold and his fingers spasmed.

Love was death, and death was love, and that was the last thing Nezumi ever knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not gonna be sarcastic or anything in this chapter note. Rather, I’m just going to leave you with some information.  
> Serotonin syndrome is caused by an excess of serotonin in the brain, which can be induced by the use of drugs like opiates, MDMA, and LSD alongside anti-depressants like MAO inhibitors, SSRIs, and any other serotonin-increasing drug. If you are taking anti-depressants, please refrain from doing these and some other recreational drugs. Know what causes synergy before you mix things your doctor hasn’t prescribed. (Yes. MAO inhibitors were what I was thinking of, and it _is_ a pun on the fact that it inhibited Nezumi.)  
>  I’m not going to preach about the mass-shooting epidemic we find ourselves in, nor am I going to suggest ways to fix it. There are demented people in this world, and also there are guns. Those are two facts. So instead of trying to soapbox about a subject I’m not qualified to teach about, I’m going to explain the reason I wanted to write this story.  
> This is not for some noble purpose. This is not to draw attention to a problem. It’s simply a way for me to rationalize what’s happening in order to get a clearer view of the situation we find ourselves in. It’s a way for me to think about this problem with some amount of compassion for those who are so psychologically broken that they find themselves committing such evil acts. Through this story, I’ve thought a lot about the problems with our culture, our laws, and our schools. It’s helped me to realize this is a complicated problem that is really a symptom of a greater cause. I hope that those who read this story will understand my reasoning and maybe use this opportunity to evaluate the way they think about violence and evil. But that’s not the purpose of this story. Ultimately, it was simply an exercise for me, and a hopefully interesting bit of reading for others.  
> That’s all I have to say in this endnote, so thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed this story, there’s one more epilogue-style chapter coming soon.


	9. Epilogue

“There has been a shooting at local West High, with twenty two confirmed deaths and fifty confirmed injuries. This is a breaking news story, so more information will be broadcast as it continues to occur.”

Karan’s eyes were glued to the TV as she stood stunned at work, dread like ice in her veins. She needed to get to the school, she knew. She should close down the shop and get in the car. She couldn’t move. They were broadcasting names on the TV, and she couldn’t pull her eyes away until she knew Shion wasn’t one. God, please, let him be okay.

Her hands were covered in slowly deflating bread dough, and tears were rolling rapidly down her face as she watched the news unfold.  _ Maybe he skipped school,  _ she thought to herself.  _ He’s been so distant lately, hanging out with that Nezumi person… maybe they both aren’t in school.  _ She hadn’t even seen him the night before. He and his new friend were spending the night together at- Oh.

Through the tragedy, she giggled a bit hysterically. That made sense. He’s found a boyfriend, how cute. That would be good for him after all this was over. He would need someone to lean on.

“Breaking news. It now appears that many of the deaths were caused by an overdose of opiates in the cafeteria food. It’s suspected that the shooter laced something in the kitchen. The death toll is now up to twenty five, injured reaching fifty seven as SWAT teams continue to sweep the building. This could well turn out to be the deadliest school shooting in American history.”

Karan shook herself, pulling her hands out of the dough she was kneading and removing her gloves. She needed to get to the school. She needed to be there for her son.

“More breaking news, it appears the shooters have been apprehended by SWAT teams. Both young men are now exiting the building, disarmed.”

Karan turned back to the TV, and that’s when her heart broke. There was no mistaking her boy. Despite the eyes round and beyond insanity, his body stained red and shaking, it was still very clearly her son. She screamed a high-pitched scream that was out of her control. It couldn’t be. They had it wrong. He was alive, thank God, but he was being falsely accused. That had to be the answer. Shion wouldn’t do something like this. There was simply no way.

She screamed again when Shion collapsed to the ground in violent seizure. Nezumi called out for him as he was forced into the back of a cop car, surely also falsely accused. The SWAT team backed away as EMS ran forwards, too late.

He died on camera before her eyes.

Karan bolted for the car, not believing it for a second. There was some piece of information missing, and she was going to find it. She was going to find her son, resuscitated and alive on the school campus. She was going to find him and take him home and help him through the trauma while the police figured out who had really done it.

She tore through the streets well above the speed limit. There were no cops around, they were all at the school. When she arrived, a police barricade was holding back a swarm of parents and siblings.

“Where’s my son?!” Karan screamed. “Where is he?”

“We’re doing our best to get everyone out of the school safely, Ma’am,” one officer addressed her. “I’m afraid you’ll just have to wait.”

“No! He’s out! I saw him on TV, he’s there!” She pointed to the EMS crew, who was loading a covered body onto an ambulance.

“That’s the shooter, Ma’am. All the rest of the students are being cared for and evacuated to the football field.”

“No! That’s my son!” She sobbed. “He’s not the shooter, you’re wrong!”

The officer froze. “Describe him.”

Karan nodded, choking on her own voice. “He has albinism, that’s him. Let me see him!”

The officers conferred briefly before nodding. “Okay, step through.”

She was escorted towards the body on the gurney by a young, female cop. “We have a few questions to ask you when you’re ready.”

Karan nodded distractedly, wringing her hands as an EMS woman pulled back the sheet. Her world collapsed, and she fell to her knees nodding. “That’s my son. That’s my son. He didn’t do this. That’s my son.”

“We found him with guns in his backpack, standing in the gym where the killings were concentrated,” an officer explained. “We’re reviewing the security camera footage just in case, but the evidence is already beyond a shadow of a doubt. He confessed.”

Karan could barely hear what she was being told. It couldn’t be. Not her son. She refused to believe it. Maybe Nezumi was the real shooter, maybe Shion had been trying to stop him. The child she knew wasn’t a killer. He’d never so much as gotten into a fight. He was a good kid, a good student. A good person.

_ “Where’s that fucking brat of a kid?!”  _ an angry voice shouted out. “Where’s my foster son?”

Another body was being unloaded from the back of a police car and moved to EMS. “He died in the back seat, he must have killed himself somehow.”

“That’s him, that fucking lunatic! I always hated that kid.” A man was raging, pointing furiously at Nezumi’s body.

“You’re the father?” an officer asked.

“Foster father,” he corrected. “He’s a psychopath, you know! It wasn’t my fault, he’s always been crazy!”

Karan pushed herself gingerly to her feet. “You’re Nezumi’s father?”

“Foster father,” the man corrected again. “I didn’t want to take him, but my wife felt sorry for the piece of shit.”

“I’m Shion’s mother.” Karan’s lower lip trembled. “They say he shot up the school.”

“Wait, the albino was yours? I met him.” The man frowned, remembering. “He came to my house last night, they stole my guns and pills.”

Karan’s heart clenched tightly. So it was true. She covered her mouth as a sob broke through. “So he did do it.” She shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

“I do,” Nezumi’s father said gruffly. “Nez was violent and crazy. He broke my son’s nose yesterday. Your kid helped beat him up, too.”

The world was spinning. Karan shook her head. “He wouldn’t.”

“He did. I’m sorry for your loss, but I’m glad mine’s dead. One less thing for me to worry about. He was an absolute terror from the day we got him.” He scowled at the still body that was once his foster son. “It’s too bad- Shion, was it?- too bad he got wrapped up with him. I’m sure he was a fine kid before mine got his tendrils in yours’ brain.” He sniffed derisively, still scowling at Nezumi’s corpse. “How many are dead?” he asked a cop.

“The final count is thirty one dead, fifty eight injured. Deadliest school shooting in American history.” She drew a cross across her chest. “God help us all.”

“Are any of my real ones hurt?” His expression changed quickly from angry to concerned.

“I don’t know, sir. I’m sorry.”

The man stormed away to go stand with the other parents. “I refuse to claim that kid! I’m here for my real children, that’s all! You can throw that one in an unmarked grave or burn him with the other unloved corpses!”

Karan’s knees gave out again as she sobbed. Sitting in the middle of the parking lot next to the body of her son, nothing felt real. Like a very bad dream.

“Sir, I’ve found something.” A cop held a book out to the chief. “I think the shooters wrote it, it looks like a manifesto.”

The chief inspected the book.  _ “The Massacre Sutra?  _ What the hell… Is this some sex thing?”

“I… I think it’s a Buddhist thing, sir.”

“Well, let’s get it to evidence.” He flipped through the pages to find a handwritten note in the back. It was Shion’s handwriting.

Karan sobbed louder.

“Someone get this woman a shock blanket,” the chief said, annoyed. “This is standard, people, come on.”

Wrapped in a silver blanket, Karan felt out of her mind. She still couldn’t quite accept it. Despite every piece of evidence lying in front of her, it still didn’t feel true. She was helped to her feet by an EMS worker and firmly lead away from the scene. She called over her shoulder to her son’s body, as if maybe he might hear her. “I still love you, baby! I still love you and I’m sorry!”

A young boyish-looking girl was standing with the crowd of parents, looking pale and frightened. “You’re Shion’s mom,” she said.

“Yes.” Karan nodded, tears pouring down her face.

“I’m Nezumi’s sister.”

Karan blinked at the young girl, stunned. “You are?”

“Yeah. Well, foster sister. I called the bomb threat. I… I thought I was being paranoid. I didn’t think he’d actually do it. I thought I was being careful, but I should have told… I don’t know, but I think I let this happen.” Her eyes twitched anxiously. “I can’t go home now. I can’t go back to where he was…”

Karan watched as parent after parent was reunited with their surviving child. She watched as parent after parent was given the worst news of their life. Selfishly, she felt her situation was so much worse. How could she properly mourn the suicide of her son if that meant glorifying a murderer? She felt a pang of jealousy for the parents of children who had died through no fault of their own, who had done nothing wrong. They would be remembered as dearest angels where her son would be reviled in history as evil. And herself… the mother of this evil person. She had to go on living as the one who had raised him. It was her fault. She had made him the person he was, and apparently that was a killer. One of the most prolific mass killers in history, in fact.

The image of his pinwheel eyes flashed in her memory. He looked so like the other killers of history in that moment, it must be true.

“Do you need a place to stay?” she asked Nezumi’s sister desperately. The idea of returning home alone was painful. “I have a spare bedroom.”

Nezumi’s sister looked frightened for a moment. Of course she did. She had been asked to stay with the mother of evil. In evil’s bedroom. But her expression calmed, and she nodded slowly. “I would like that.”

Karan forced a smile through her tears. “Good. Thank you.” She couldn’t be childless. She couldn’t. She couldn’t lose her only son and return home to be alone forever. As strange as it may seem to ask so terribly soon after the tragedy, this little orphan girl was exactly what she needed at the moment. Someone to take care of. Someone to make the house a little less silent. Someone who understood what she was going through the way this child did. She just wanted someone to pay attention to. More than she had to Shion. She should have noticed something was wrong, but she hadn’t. Now, the desire to make up for that was overwhelming. She needed this child to be hers.

“Inu!” Nezumi’s father called out. “Let’s go.”

The little girl- Inu, apparently- shook her head. “I’m staying with this lady.”

Nezumi’s father scanned Karan up and down. “You want this kid?”

Karan nodded slowly. “I offered… if it’s alright with you.”

The man shrugged. “No skin off my nose, she’s a ward of the state anyway. Take her as long as you want. Take her forever, I don’t care.”

Karan’s heart was lifted slightly. “Thank you.” She held out her hand to Inu, who took it tentatively. “Let’s go home.” She couldn’t bare to be at the school anymore. Couldn’t bare to see it. Besides, it felt wrong standing with the parents of victims. She felt like a pariah, and they didn’t need her around while they grieved.

It would be a long time before Karan felt alright again. She would never feel the same again. But time would move on, and things would improve slowly. Everything would get better slowly. Maybe the scars would never heal, but scar the wounds would. Things wouldn’t hurt so bad forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed (or at least appreciated) this dark story. Since posting the last chapter, another mass shooting has occurred. I wondered when an appropriate time to post the epilogue would be, but these things have been happening so often lately that I can't wait more than a few days it seems before another one happens and we wind up back in the "too soon" zone. So, here's the epilogue. Fuck that psychopath and everything he stood for.


End file.
